


Kidnapping, Car Thefts, & Other Hazards of Dating

by CrowleyLovesUSUK



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Background Destiel, Banter, Bottom Sam Winchester, Bratty Gabriel, Canon-Typical Violence, Chuck's a+ parenting, Condoms, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gabriel Being Gabriel (Supernatural), Gabriel and Castiel are Rich, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired By Excess Baggage, Juliet is Awesome, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Past Teenager Death, Mentions of past drug use, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Romantic Comedy, SPNMBB2020, Sabriel - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shades of Possible Stockholm Syndrome, Sharing a Bed, Slut Shaming, Top Gabriel (Supernatural), Top Gabriel/Bottom Sam Winchester, fast burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23806579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK
Summary: To the casual observer, Gabriel Novak has everything: looks, charm, and an insane amount of wealth. The only thing he doesn’t have is the love of his wealthy father.  In a last act of desperation to gain Chuck's attention, Gabriel dramatically stages his own kidnapping. Everything was going according to plan, right up until Gabe locked himself in the trunk of his car to wait for the police to “rescue” him.  Unfortunately, Gabe didn’t factor in something like his car being stolen while he was still inside.Sam Winchester has been working undercover for the FBI to take down Chuck Novak. When a meeting goes bad, he’s forced to boost a car to make his escape. He didn’t count on his target’s son to be handcuffed in the trunk.  Now his whole case might be blown to pieces because of his shitty luck. And it doesn’t help that Gabriel pushes all of Sam's buttons—in a good (and infuriating) way.With things heating up between them, something going on between their brothers, a hitman on their tail, and plenty of double-crosses, can Sam and Gabriel find a way to reach their ultimate goals?  After all, true love, happiness, freedom, and closure usually come with a high price.  Are the Winchesters and Novaks willing to pay?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 140
Kudos: 141
Collections: Multi-Chapters, SPN Media Big Bang 2020





	1. Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kiddos!! I'm back!  
> So, this has been my first foray into the world of Bangs and I’m addicted!! I celebrated finishing this Bang by signing up for two more because obviously I'm masochistic.  
> I’m super excited about this, and my art is top notch—you will love it, I promise! anyrei knocked this out of the park, and I am forever indebted! I couldn't have asked for a better artist. NGL--the art is going to make you swoon. [anyreiart masterpost](https://anyreiart.tumblr.com/post/616531133051568128/my-art-masterpost-for-spn-media-bang-2020-i)  
> I'd also love to thank the mods for the SPNMBB, MalMuses and jscribbles because they were just fantastic! They really helped make my first Bang into an awesome memory and experience.  
> A big shout out to my betas as well! This work has also been Beta’d by [BuLlEtNiPpLeS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuLlEtNiPpLeS/pseuds/BuLlEtNiPpLeS), [Angelolatry (EvelynRaith)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynRaith/pseuds/Angelolatry), and fox_vii...all remaining mistakes are 100% MINE!  
> I love all of you for helping me make this fic happen, and I hope that you all have something wonderful happen to you every day, because you peeps deserve it. 
> 
> Okie Dokie, so here we go. A few things before we begin:  
> *This fic is 'Inspired By' the film, ‘Excess Baggage,’ from 1997, starring Alicia Silverstone, Benicio delToro, and Christopher Walken (IKR). It totally bombed, but it was a huge part of my childhood and I loved it. If you know the film you might recognize a few scenes, along with the concept of ‘the poor little rich kid who stages their own kidnapping.’ However, this is an inspired by fic, not a ‘remake,’ so a lot of the plot deviates from the film.  
> *This is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the characters of Supernatural, nor anything to do with the 1997 film, ‘Excess Baggage.’ I am just visiting and causing a ruckus.  
> *I also do not condone staging your own kidnapping—don’t do that. It’s illegal.  
> *As I have mentioned in the past, I am not a professional, and most of my knowledge of action sequences and the like come from ‘Burn Notice.’ Please forgive any of the really glaringly bad mistakes. Apologies. 
> 
> For those of you who like to know how old everyone is, the following are the ages for the major characters in this fic:  
> —Gabriel is 30.  
> —Sam is 26.  
> —Dean is 30.  
> —Cas is 28.  
> —Lucifer is 35
> 
> *Oooh, and a fun bit of trivia is that all of the chapter titles are also Supernatural episode titles!
> 
> *SPOILERY ANNOUNCEMENT!!  
> No animals were harmed in the making of this, so don't you worry when Juliet shows up...
> 
> ...AND ON WITH THE SHOW!

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Wasn’t that how it always went? Was it the road to heaven—or was it hell—that was paved with good intentions? Gabriel could never remember that shit. He had always had better things—or people—to do with his time. Such was the life for one of the sons of the richest man in the country.

But for all of the yachts he’d sunbathed on, the trust funds set up in his name, and insanely priced bottles of champagne he’d drank, Gabriel Novak had never been given what he truly wanted—the love and attention of his father. Chuck Novak, known to both colleagues and competitors as ‘God,’ wasn’t the most shining example of fatherly devotion. In fact, Gabriel didn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Chuck in person. It wasn’t Christmas, _or_ his last birthday, that was for sure.

His two brothers, Castiel and Lucifer, had handled being raised by a series of nannies _and_ tutors much better than Gabriel had. But, according to both his family and his teachers, Gabriel _was_ rather dramatic. He had spent his childhood begging to see his father; the tears ignored for conference calls, the begging for hugs turned away for business dinners. When Gabriel was around six, he stopped asking.

The behavioral problems started when he was ten. Small things—such as knocking over a prized antique vase—gave way to larger demonstrations of Gabriel’s frustrations. The fire at his school wasn’t _entirely_ his fault; not that anyone listened to him. And the tabloid pictures of him leaving downtown clubs, while still underage (with remnants of cocaine on his nostrils) was _just_ his way of making sure his dad knew that he was still alive.

Gabe’s favorite thing to do though, had been to duck his security and skip out of his private school classes. He’d wander the local mall or go to the movies. He’d spend the day pretending that he was a normal kid with a loving family before someone would track him down and drag him back home.

Gabriel’s assigned bodyguard had always yelled at him whenever he pulled those kinds of stunts. He needed supervision and protection. He could be kidnapped—blah, blah blah. Perhaps it was then that the idea first took hold. Gabriel wasn’t sure when it was that he finally decided to stage his own kidnapping to make his father prove his love. He just knew that he was only going to have one shot to make this happen. There was no room for error, and that meant planning.

What had started as random daydreams as a teenager, turned into a full-scale idea borne of desperation. In all honesty, he’d spent _years_ figuring it all out; putting much more effort into this plan than he ever put into anything. The slight amount of knowledge of his father’s business from one disastrous summer as an intern had come in handy while he ironed out the details. 

He’d hated the work. And he’d made enough mistakes--’accidentally’ deleting the account of a known drug dealer, being one--that his father had asked him to stay out of the ‘family business.’ He’d been given a vague title in the company, and set up with a few credit cards, controlled by Chuck. Gabriel spent his days doing whatever he wished--as long as he didn’t actually go back to work at Grace Avionics. He would have been insulted, if he even cared about working. Airplanes didn’t interest Gabriel all that much, and work cut into his free time. 

Despite it all, the few things he picked up on that summer ended up becoming useful as he made his plans. And he could always call his younger brother, Castiel, to ask some probing questions in an innocent voice. Castiel never really picked up on the subtleties; it wasn’t his forte. And Gabe could get away with quite a bit of information from his brother without Cas realizing anything. 

It was amazing to Gabriel how the youngest Novak had managed to become so valued in the security of the company when he could also be so horribly naïve about things that most people understood on instinct. Such as flirting and sarcasm...and pop culture references. Despite his social awkwardness, Castiel was a formidable head of security for their father’s company, and Gabriel was more than willing to use his brother’s experiences to give him an upper hand in his scheme.

After two months of plying his brother with Indian takeout and DVR-ed episodes of Nightline, Gabriel finally felt as though he knew his father’s security plans inside and out. That was the easy part. He spent a few months watching his own security with the knowledge that his brother had unknowingly given him before he took the first step. Gabriel went to his favorite store downtown and purchased an obscene amount of clothes. When the payment screen came up asking if he wanted ‘Cash Back’ he said ‘Yes.’

“You don’t have trouble giving me bills under a twenty, do you?” Gabriel smiled at the salesgirl. She was so excited to have over three thousand dollars toward her monthly commission, that she only smiled and pressed the accept button on the register. Gabe walked away with five hundred dollars in twenties, tens, fives and ones that he tucked neatly into his designer wallet. “Interesting,” he smiled, waiting for his driver at the curb.

For the next few weeks, he made sure to get cash back at every place he shopped. His father didn’t comment and no one seemed to notice that he was amassing a large pile of untraceable money as he wandered through his favorite places. As soon as Gabe had gathered five thousand dollars, he began to really start planning.

He looked at TripAdvisor and figured out the cheapest hotel/motel rates to places that weren’t totally horrifying. He wasn’t about to stay in a place where he ran the risk of becoming some hillbilly’s pot of cannibal soup—and he didn’t want bed bugs either. He was picky about the random accommodations that he knew he would have to endure during his ‘ordeal.’ But he wasn’t about to demean himself by staying somewhere...gross.

He’d even plied the knowledge of everyone that he’d come across during his entire existence. His old boarding school janitor had two kids—they needed money for college degrees—and the man had been only too happy to introduce Gabriel to his cousin, the electronics store manager, who taught the prep school boy a little something about voice disguisers. That had been pricey. Mostly because Alistair had insisted on a ‘bonus’ to keep the entire transaction a secret. When he looked back on it, Gabe had done everything that he could think of to make sure that it all went off without a hitch.

He called in every favor that he could among his very well-connected ‘friends,’ and he finally had all of his ducks in a row. The plan was set to go down on the night of Gabriel’s thirtieth birthday—the day that he came into his _first_ trust. Laying his hands on enough cash so that he didn’t leave a trail before he had access to any of his wealth had been a bit of a challenge, but once he’d discovered the ‘Cash Back’ option, there was no going back.

However, Gabe knew that once he turned thirty, anything like what he had planned would be even more suspicious to his family. If he could pull this off before he had the ‘financial means’ to do it, then the kidnapping would look all the more real. At least, that was what Gabe told himself.

Gabriel had calculated everything down to the very last detail. He had taken great pains to make sure that everything would go perfectly. He was desperate—and he knew that this was probably the last chance he had to make his father sit up and take notice of him for once. Gabriel wasn’t even sure if Chuck would deem to show up, much less pay the exorbitant ransom that had been demanded. But for Gabe, none of it was ever about the money.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Tuesday. 10:42am._

This was it. Everything was finally coming together just the way that he wanted it. All Gabriel had to do was make two more phone calls. It was easy enough. Nothing was going to mess things up at this stage in the game. His father was right where he wanted him.

He’d been playing this game for almost four days. Staying in slightly seedy, roadside motels that allowed him to pay in cash, and making sure to wear some semblance of a disguise when he went out wasn’t fun—but it _had_ been working. It was almost too easy. 

The voice disguiser had been invaluable to his scheme. He had also been making all of the demanding ransom calls from his own cell phone. If the police traced it, it would just ping back, and hopefully, they would assume the kidnappers were taking advantage of Gabriel’s unlimited plan.

It did surprise him that with all of Chuck’s connections to the rather unsavory sides of business, that he had chosen to involve the authorities instead of keeping things ‘in house.’ Gabriel assumed that Chuck was just using the cops to make sure he got his money back. Not only had he grown up spoiled, he’d grown up cynical as well. _‘Thanks, dad,´_ Gabe thought.

Gabriel took a deep breath and adjusted the collar of his custom yellow leather jacket. He’d bought it to match his car, and now that this little game was almost over he could finally wear it again. It felt comfortable and familiar which was a change from the alien lifestyle he’d been living for the past few days. Without allowing for second thoughts, Gabriel sucked in some air and dialed the familiar number. There were only two rings before his father answered the phone. “Chuck Novak.”

“I assume you would like your son back?” Gabriel said into the disguiser. It made his normal tone sound garbled and robotic.

“Yes,” his father said. If Gabe had been someone else, he may have been moved by the warbled tone of Charles Novak’s voice. But because he was his father’s son, he realized that it was ‘dialect number seven’ and meant that his father was distracted, and also conversing silently with someone else.

“You have the money?” Gabe asked. “In the Halliburton case like I asked?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Gabe knew that if he blew it now, this would all be for naught. He paused, just long enough for the authorities tapping the call to get nervous, and hopefully enough for Chuck to worry—although Gabriel doubted that his father really cared. “Look out of the passenger window of your car,” he instructed. He knew exactly where he’d instructed his father to go in their last conversation. He still wanted to be sure. “You see the pier?”

“I see it,” Chuck’s voice was even. “I’d like to speak to my son.”

“We’re not interested in what you’d like Mr. Novak,” Gabriel said into the voice simulator. He tried not to laugh as he pictured his father’s indignant face. People didn’t speak to Chuck Novak that way, and Gabriel didn’t care. “Just stick to the plan and no one will get hurt, am I clear?”

“You’re clear.” Gabe could actually _hear_ the irritation in his father’s voice. Chuck wouldn’t play this game for much longer. Good thing Gabe had accounted for that. Everything was playing out perfectly with his carefully thought-out timetable.

“Take the money to the end of the pier and pitch it in,” Gabriel said, wishing he could see his father throwing all of that fucking cash into the ocean. “When you’re back in your car in the parking lot, call me, and I’ll give you further instructions.” 

“How do I know you’ll release him?” Chuck said. If Gabe didn’t know better, his father sounded almost…worried.

“You don’t,” Gabe snapped into the voice disguiser. Without another word, Gabriel clicked off his phone and leaned back into the driver’s seat of his BMW. 

It was a ‘belated’ birthday gift from Chuck. Belated, because Chuck had forgotten Gabe’s twenty-fifth birthday. He’d commissioned the car when Gabriel was already twenty-eight. The balloons reading ‘Twenty-Five” had been punctured, along with the two front tires when the car had been delivered to the estate, three years too late. Chuck didn’t notice the charges on his credit cards to repair the tires. Gabe decided to take the car, and pretend he wasn’t devastated, after a full week of pouting.

With more rage than he wanted to admit, Gabriel punched the stereo button on his dashboard and the music of Christina Aguilera blared to life. _‘Sweet, sugar, Candyman!’_ He closed his eyes and got lost in the music, his palm gripping his cell phone as tightly as he could, waiting for it to ring. It was almost over. It was almost through.

His ‘Party Up’ playlist had cycled through three songs after ‘Candyman’ before the phone in his hand buzzed. He quickly turned the music off and let out a breath before answering. “Yes.” The voice sounded garbled as it reverberated back to him. He knew that Chuck and whatever law enforcement that was listening heard a robotic monotone whenever he spoke.

“I threw the briefcase off of the pier,” Chuck said, his voice grave. “Where is my son?”

Gabriel allowed himself a moment to smirk. “He’ll be in the trunk of his car, on the third level of the parking garage at Kripke Street and Manners Drive.” He pressed the end call button as quickly as he could. Gabe was on a timetable now. 

He grabbed a monogrammed handkerchief out of the center console and wiped down his cell phone, erasing any traces of his fingerprints. Once that was finished, he pitched it over the edge of the parking structure that he was in, sending the phone deep into the depths of the murky river below. Once that was finished, Gabriel ran around to the back of his car and popped the trunk. He pulled out a roll of duct tape with the pattern of bright pink flamingos. (Sue him, it was on sale.)

With a great yank, he pulled out a length of the tape, enough to wrap around his face. Gabriel allowed himself a grimace as he paused a moment before wrapping the duct tape around his head and into his mouth multiple times. It stuck to his teeth, his hair, and his lips, and Gabe knew that it was going to hurt when it was removed. He had no time to care at the moment. Once he felt as though he had been ‘gagged’ sufficiently, he ripped the tape off. He immediately bent down and began to tape his legs with the same flamingo tape. While he circled the restraint around his legs, he shuffled toward the edge of the parking structure. When he felt as though he had tied himself up enough, he ripped off the tape once more. 

The duct tape, now at the end of its usefulness, was also tossed over the rampart, and into the rushing river below. Gabriel made sure to move his legs as little as possible as he shuffled back toward the trunk of his car. He bent and reached into the side netting of the trunk, pulling out the police issue handcuffs that he’d stored there earlier. With the knowledge that the keys to the cuffs were secure in the two hundred dollar combat boots he was wearing—and therefore, wouldn’t be checked by anyone rescuing him—Gabriel smiled to himself and clicked the cuffs in place loosely around his wrists.

He glanced up and down the rows of parked cars around him, content in the knowledge that it probably wouldn’t take _too_ long for the police, or FBI, or _whoever_ Chuck had conned into helping him, to find a canary yellow BMW. Gabriel sat down on the edge of the trunk, and slid his ass backwards, into the small space, reaching up with his cuffed hands to pull the trunk down behind him. As he folded himself into the tiny interior, the lid of the BMW’s trunk slammed ominously on top of him.

Gabriel settled into the darkness of the trunk, glad that his luxury car was roomy enough that he wasn’t unduly cramped. He let out a deep, relieved sigh around the tape between his teeth. Everything was working out perfectly and going completely to plan—right down to the minute. 

But there was one thing that he never could have anticipated.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam Winchester was having a shitty day. He’d been sent down to meet with a low-level mover that he’d been working on, and the guy hadn’t shown. He had waited at the café for two hours until he noticed the same uniform walking back and forth across the plate glass windows. The third time Sam spotted him, he bailed; politely paying his bill, (with a generous tip), and exiting out from the back. 

It was just his luck that the rear exit opened on to a parking garage for the shopping mall; which was now his new destination. He’d grab his car and head back so that he could fill Dean and Crowley in on Gordon’s disappearing act. He moved quickly toward the exits and hopped onto the first elevator he could.

Sam tugged at his tie and pulled at the cuffs as he rode the lift down. The teenage girls who had gotten onto the elevator with him, exited at Level Two with their loaded shopping bags. Unfortunately, Level Two was where Sam’s car was parked. 

He couldn’t afford to get off at the same place that they did—witnesses, and all that.

Sam went to Level Three to get away from them, staying as close to the exit as he could. He ignored the blatant grabbing of his ass from an under-aged redhead as the teens tumbled out of the lift. Once the doors were closed, Sam reached into the pockets of his slacks and removed a slim jim and a wire stripper from his right pocket. He hadn’t needed them for months, but old habits die hard.

The doors to the elevator slid open and Sam strode out into the parking garage. He could still hear the teenagers gossiping one level below him and he knew that he wouldn’t be getting to his own car any time soon. Luckily, he noticed that not many people were around, which was good. However, he also saw the security cameras mounted right by the elevator. Sam turned to the left and saw that the parking garage continued in that direction, but a quick glance to the camera showed him that twenty feet away, he wouldn’t be detected. With barely a hesitation, Sam turned left.

He moved with purpose, watching each car that he passed. Some, he knew, were too complicated to deal with, while others just weren’t worth his time. He had a reputation to uphold and rolling back to headquarters with a soccer mom nineteen ninety-eight minivan wouldn’t do him any favors. His phone chirped in his pocket. Sam rolled his eyes as he answered.

“What?”

“What, what?” his brother Dean growled. “Did you meet with Gordon?”

“No, man,” Sam groaned. “He’s a fucking no-show.”

“Where are you?” Dean sounded impatient.

“I’m trying to get a ride out of here,” Sam told him, still scanning the cars that he passed.

“Hurry up,” Dean told him. “You can’t wait for an Uber—Crowley wants an update. Get back. Now.” 

There was no questioning the older brother’s tone. Sam nodded once. “I’m on it,” he added, knowing that his brother couldn’t see him. 

Just as he hung up the phone, his eyes lit upon the sight of a bright yellow BMW. Sam approached the car as though he owned it and knew what he was doing. Before he’d even come level with it, he had already discovered that it would match his tools perfectly. It might be a bit flashy, but it would be able to be resold by their ‘bosses.’ At least, Sam could use that as an excuse for stealing this particular car. He was desperate, and anything else around him would cause even more suspicion than the fucking sunspot of a car in front of him. No one could resell a wood-paneled ‘Mom Van’—he’d have to go for the yellow monstrosity.

Sam walked with a purpose toward the driver’s side door. He came level with it, glancing around as he used the puller to wedge into the weather stripping. Satisfied that no one seemed to be watching him, and that there were no cameras in the vicinity, Sam slid the slim jim into the space. He moved the tool slightly, waiting for it to engage. Once his fingers felt the click, he pulled the device upward with precision. He’d never had an issue with the maneuver before. The door popped open easily and Sam tried not to smirk. The alarm only blared twice before he’d managed to silence it.

He sank down onto the seat, feeling for the lever and pushing the seat all the way back. Whoever owned the car was obviously the size of a Hobbit, and Sam chuckled at the thought of Frodo or Samwise Gamgee driving a yellow car that looked like the sun.

Sliding a miniature screwdriver out of his pocket, Sam placed it onto the bolts of the steering column. He quickly removed them, tossing the Phillips-head screws into the backseat. He threw the plastic panel onto the floorboards and yanked out the wires from the dash. Sam poked at the bundles of wires that protruded out at him for a moment before isolating the grouping that he needed. He found the brown, yellow and red wires clumped together leading to the parts of the car that he cared about.

He chanced a quick glance around the garage, grateful that no one seemed to notice what he was doing. Sam took his wire stripper and pulled the plastic from the red wire, exposing it. He then did the same to the yellow starter wire. It had been almost five years since he’d hotwired a car, something he knew that his bosses would frown upon, but Sam was confident that he still had it. Back when the law was the least of their worries, his big brother Dean had taught him well. Sam was pleased to find that stealing a car now was just as easy as it was when he was twelve—like riding a bike. He took the exposed wires and twisted them, threading them together. As the copper connected, the engine of the car revved darkly.

Sam let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They would have to forgive him for this. He couldn’t get to his actual car—and turning a profit was the next best thing. Sam shifted the gear and backed out of the parking spot. It had been a little while since he’d driven anything with a bit of a kick and he allowed himself to jerk forward as he drove away, heading for the exit.

Pulling out into traffic, Sam reached up and adjusted his rearview mirror when he saw two cop cars, lights flashing, pull up behind him within seconds. The lead car had to do a course correct and looked as though it had been heading _into_ the parking garage before it changed direction.

Narrowing his eyes, Sam grabbed his phone and dialed his brother with the single touch of a button. “Dean,” Sam growled.

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way,” Sam said. “I’ve got five-oh on my ass—anything on the scanner?”

There was a shuffle on the line before Dean’s voice came back, slightly garbled. “Police chase on Kripke Street. Yellow BMW, license plate: Golf, Romeo, November, One. Why?”

“That’s _me_ , Dean!” Sam shouted into the phone. “What the fuck are they saying?” He hoped that his brother had been paying attention to the police scanner.

“Well, fuck!” Dean shouted. Sam could hear the sound of papers as Dean moved. He knew that his brother would probably be looking at an actual paper map as opposed to the more accurate phone apps—someday he would make sure that Dean knew that technology was their friend and not their enemy. “Ah, shit—where are you now?” Dean’s voice sounded concerned.

“I don’t fucking know!” Sam shouted as he made another left turn, tires skidding. At least one of the patrol cars was gone. He glanced around and saw the green of a street sign. “I’m on Rosen Way,” he said. “By the hospital.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed. He laid out a few directions—including some detours, down alleyways to throw off pursuers—and Sam was smiling again. “Go to the garage on Kosterman Road,” Dean told him. “I’ll meet you there.” His brother’s voice was deadly serious. “Lose the fucking cops, Sammy.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

In the trunk of his own car, Gabriel Novak was being flung, unceremoniously, around. If he didn’t have flamingo duct tape in—and over—his mouth, he would have been swearing.

*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Brother's Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Castiel.  
> Sam makes a shocking discovery.  
> Dean buys some booze.

A silver Lexus slid to a stop in the circular drive of the Novak estate. A tall, dark haired man stepped out of the driver’s side, his trench coat billowing around his thighs as the wind whipped up. He tossed his keys uncaringly at the uniformed young man who was rushing toward him, and headed into the house without a backward glance.

He entered the large marble foyer and spared a glance upward to the crystal chandelier. Father had redecorated since he’d last been home. He rarely had time to visit these days. Since taking the position of Head of Security for Grace Avionics straight out of school, he was mostly traveling around the globe, putting out both literal and figurative fires. 

Castiel Novak moved forward with purpose, heading straight for his father’s study near the back of the estate. He was interrupted in his quest by two men in ill-fitting, off-the-rack suits. Cops. And not high-ranking ones at that. One of them had the audacity to hold up his hand to Castiel. Before the man could speak, Cas fixed him with his icy glare. “Move. Now.”

“Sir,” the cop said firmly. “You aren’t allowed to be on this property. There is business of a sensitive nature going on at the moment and--”

The police officer was cut off by the pocket doors of Chuck’s office sliding open to reveal the man himself. “Castiel,” Chuck said, attempting to smile due to the fact that they had company. “You’re late.”

“My apologies, father,” Cas said, shooting a glare at the man who had tried to kick him out of his own home. “Catching a flight from Prague on such short notice wasn’t easy since I didn’t have access to the jet.”

Chuck ignored him and turned to address the two policemen flanking his door. “This is my youngest son, Castiel. He is in charge of security for Grace Avionics, which means that his brother’s situation is entirely his fault.” The cops exchanged an uncomfortable glance, while Castiel remained still, his face impassive. “In order to make up for his lapse, Castiel will be helping us for the foreseeable future as we try to locate my middle child. Castiel and Gabriel are very close.”

“Um,” the older cop stammered. “He’s not on our security list.”

“I’ll make sure that he is added immediately,” another man spoke up, walking toward them. Castiel took in the slightly more expensive suit and the rigid posture. This man was in charge. “Detective Victor Henrickson,” he said, extending his hand to Castiel. “Good to finally meet you, Mr. Novak. Anything you can provide to help us locate your brother will be much appreciated.”

“I will endeavor to be useful,” Castiel said solemnly. “What do we know at this time?” he asked Henrickson.

One of the other officers spoke up instead, causing Cas to glare. No one except for Chuck seemed to notice. “We saw your brother’s car leaving the parking garage where the kidnappers said he would be. There was a man driving it, brunette, Caucasian. But we couldn’t make a positive identification.”

“This man wasn’t apprehended?” Castiel growled.

“No,” Henrickson confirmed.

“We pursued the vehicle,” the other officer said. “But he managed to lose us in one of the industrial neighborhoods near the river.”

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but his father beat him to it. “I’m sure that the police are doing everything they can to bring your brother back safely.” Everyone looked uncomfortable and refused to make eye contact with anyone else. “I do apologize,” Chuck added. “Today has been so emotional, and I would like a moment alone with my son.” No one commented on the fact that Chuck’s tone was entirely emotionless and dull.

Henrickson nodded once and silently directed his men to follow him back toward the front of the house, leaving Chuck and Castiel alone. When they were out of sight, Chuck turned and stalked into his study, sitting in the large custom built chair behind his desk. Castiel followed his father in silence, shutting and locking the doors behind them.

He faced his father, standing ramrod straight on the other side of the immense desk. Castiel knew that Chuck blamed him. He was the head of security, which meant that Gabriel’s safety was under his purview. Castiel wasn’t accustomed to failure, and the furious look his father was giving him made his stomach churn. “Those assholes also lost the ransom money,” Chuck spat finally. “The kidnappers made me pitch it into the fucking river. The cops were set up to send a diver down to retrieve it, if possible.”

“What happened?” Castiel asked, resisting the urge to rub his temples. Of course their father cared more about the money than Gabriel. Cas wished that he was surprised at that. 

“A barge came through and churned up the bottom,” Chuck snorted. “The diver said he couldn’t find it. It’s probably buried in the mud down there and the cops are too lazy to make an effort. I pay taxes--they should be doing everything they can to help me!”

Castiel knew better than to point out the numerous ways his father found loopholes to avoid the worst of the government’s tariffs come tax season each year. Grace Avionics made money hand over fist, never paying what they should have, and so far they hadn’t been audited either. Not for the first time, Castiel wondered if his father had politicians in his pocket. But that wasn’t his area—his oldest brother, Lucifer dealt with the finances. “What do you wish me to do, father?”

Chuck leaned back in his chair and studied his son. “You’re very good at your job, Castiel,” he began. “Despite your inability to keep your brother out of trouble--you  _ are  _ good at what you do. I wouldn’t keep you on the payroll if you weren’t--son or no.” Castiel refused to let the sting of the remarks show on his face. “I want you to find Gabriel,” Chuck’s request sounded simple enough. “Find him and bring him back home to me. Use your skills. Whatever it takes, however many favors you have to call in--bring your brother home. Do you understand me, Castiel?”

“Yes, father.”

“No more mistakes,” Chuck’s voice was hard. “Don’t make me bring Ketch into this,” he mentioned his personal bodyguard. Make no mistake, Arthur Ketch was thorough, but he would most likely leave a trail of bodies in his wake. Also, Castiel hated the man, never mind that they were close and worked together well. He would do whatever he could to keep Ketch away from his brother.

“No, father.”

He was dismissed with a careless wave of Chuck’s hand. Castiel knew better than to ask for more details. It was better if his father didn’t know anything--plausible deniability. Sometimes, in Cas’ line of work, he had to get his hands a little dirty. Chuck Novak did his level best to never be too involved with the seedier side of their business. Castiel made his way back out front to his car. He knew that he wouldn’t be permitted to stay at the house. It had already been over four days since Gabriel was abducted, which meant that Castiel didn’t have any time to waste. He would find his brother if it was the last thing that he did.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The warehouse that Crowley had acquired for them was tucked in the middle of a largely industrial area of the city. There were factories, storage facilities, run-down walk-up apartments, and the occasional diner. Sam actually liked the area. It was quiet at night and he could almost relax when he was holed up in the warehouse, due to the fact that it was more secure than most places he’d worked out of in the past.

It had been almost laughingly easy to lose the cops on his tail and make his way to the location. The fact that he’d been spotted and tailed for even a moment was enough to gnaw at Sam’s brain. He didn’t like it--not at all. Out of the two of them, Sam was the more practical. He was also more inclined to worry than Dean. He just hoped that when he relayed his afternoon to his older brother that Dean would take it somewhat seriously. Between Gordon bailing on them after months of work, and the fucking cops popping up like ghouls as soon as he got onto the street, Sam had a very bad feeling.

Their superior, Fergus Crowley, wanted an update on the Gordon situation, and Sam was planning on telling Crowley all about his cluster-fuck of an afternoon. As soon as he could catch his breath and chug a beer, that is. Once in the garage, Sam parked the obnoxious yellow Beemer and made sure that all of the exterior doors were locked and alarmed. He’d noticed a slim leather wallet on the floor of the passenger side before he exited and he’d snagged it as an afterthought. He flipped through it as he grabbed a beer and flopped down on the battered couch in the upstairs loft.

Sam counted six credit cards issued to Gabriel Richard Novak, all of them with the words ‘Platinum’ or ‘Preferred.’ There was roughly two grand in twenties stuffed in there as well. Sam let out a low whistle as he counted the cash. Suddenly he didn’t feel too guilty about stealing this particular car--obviously this Gabriel Novak could afford to buy another one. The last thing he pulled out was a driver’s license, also for Gabriel Richard Novak, and Sam’s breath caught at the picture.

An insanely handsome guy with dark blonde hair, flashing eyes, and a saucy smirk stared up at Sam from the tiny picture. Despite the fact that Sam was pretty mesmerized by the photo, the bad feeling was getting worse with each passing second. Novak. Could Sam’s luck  _ really  _ be that shitty? What were the odds, honestly? He said a silent prayer to anyone listening before he finally checked the address on the license. Fuck. It was the same as Chuck Novak’s house. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Crowley was going to kill him if he’d somehow ruined all of their hard work. Then his boss would probably filet his skin and set him on fire for good measure. 

Sam swore loudly and dropped the license on the couch next to him where the rest of the wallet’s contents were strewn. Dean needed to get his ass here yesterday! Sam thought about calling his brother with a burner phone, but he knew that it would just piss Dean off and get Sam called multiple names for being ‘paranoid.’ He looked down at the license one more time. It had to be a fucking Novak, didn’t it?

Sam stood up and stretched, letting the bones in his neck pop. He moved across the small loft and grabbed a second beer out of the rusting fridge. Normally he didn’t indulge so quickly, but he’d had a shitty day. As he turned back toward the couch, he heard a distinct thump coming from below. Sam narrowed his eyes and went to look over the railing into the main area of the warehouse. Besides a few of their other vehicles, some inconspicuous oil drums and a few pallets of ‘supplies,’ the only thing that stood out was the yellow car that Sam had recently acquired. 

He watched the car carefully, raising the beer to his lips. Just as he took a sip, he heard the noise again. Taking a drink had almost caused him to miss it. Sam’s eyes went wide as he saw that the BMW was moving, rocking just enough to be noticeable. There was another thump and something else that almost sounded like a voice. Wordlessly, Sam set his beer down and pulled the gun out of the holster over his shoulders. He automatically pressed the safety and held the weapon up and sighted as he descended into the garage toward the moving yellow car.

When he was alongside the vehicle, Sam reached in through the open window and unlocked the entire car with a touch. Gun still at the ready, he moved along toward the back of the car. His lips pursed into a thin line when he heard a distinct sound coming from the trunk. This was all sorts of fucked up, Sam knew it. He let out a soft breath and unlatched the door of the trunk. In one fluid motion, he popped it open and looked down.

Gabriel Novak--Sam recognized him from the DMV picture--was squashed onto his side in the trunk. He made an irritated and worried sounding noise through the duct tape that had been roughly placed around his head and in between his teeth. His hands were handcuffed in front of him and Sam could see more tape around the man’s legs. Oh...fuck. Gabriel squirmed at the sight of the gun in Sam’s hands and this time the sound he made was bordering on hysterical. 

Sam did the first thing that came into his mind. He slammed the lid of the trunk closed, locking Gabriel inside once more. He could hear the muffled screams as he leaned onto the trunk with his full weight, wishing that he was hallucinating. Unable to decide what else to do, Sam stalked outside, slamming and locking the metal door of the warehouse behind him. He paced up and down the side of the building, running his hands through his hair and muttering. It had started to rain; rivulets of water running down his skin, chilling him--he didn’t care. This wasn’t bad--this was a fucking travesty! Sam needed Dean  _ and _ Crowley, and he needed them right the fuck now!

*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean Winchester wasn’t stupid; far from it, in fact. He knew that he needed to meet his brother ASAP, but he absolutely wasn’t about to sit through Sammy bitching and whining about his day without at least a fifth of whiskey in his hands. Whiskey required a quick stop at the dive bar down the road from the warehouse. Dean knew that he could purchase a bottle ‘to go’ with some cash from one of the dishwashers. Quick in and out--Sam could sit tight for a minute.

He pulled his beloved Impala into the dark lot behind The Roadhouse. There were no street lamps back here. The proprietor, Ellen, kept the place clean, but shadowed. She might not agree with some of the deals and affairs that went down behind her establishment, but she also knew when it was safer to just turn a blind eye. She didn’t tolerate assault, brawls, or hard drugs, but if someone wanted a quickie in the alley, or some pot, Ellen ignored it for the most part.

Dean’s boots echoed as he walked quickly across the cracked asphalt to the back door of the bar that was propped open with a firebrick. He slipped inside, and made his way toward the kitchen, popping in to give Ash a quick wave. Once he knew his contact would meet him, Dean slid onto a stool near the end of the massive, dented, counter. 

Ellen’s daughter, Jo, was tending the bar tonight. She gave him a nod as he sat down and bustled over, dropping an ice cold brew in front of him without a word. “Rough night, Smith?” she asked, the fake name that Dean had given rolling off her tongue. Dean grunted. “You know, I’d be happy to help you release some of that tension,” Jo offered with a sly grin. She made a point to proposition him at least once each time that he came in, and wasn’t discouraged by the fact that he continually turned her down.

“Don’t you have to study for the SATs or something, kid,” he grumbled.

The bartender rolled her eyes and snorted. “You know I’m nineteen,” she repeated the tired mantra. 

Dean knew. He also didn’t care. Maybe five years ago, when he was a fresh faced agent still earning his place, he might have taken the blonde up on her offer of a good time. Then again, five years ago, she would have been jailbait--which held absolutely  _ no  _ appeal. Dean actually shuddered thinking about it. Whatever expression that Jo saw on his face made her huff and turn away. Thank fuck.

Lifting the chilled bottle to his lips, Dean took a long swig. He rolled the beer around in his mouth, cheeks lightly puffed as he glanced around the bar. This early in the evening, it was still pretty dead. But a few hours from now, the joint would be packed--mostly with people who wanted to avoid men like Dean Winchester.

As he waited for Ash to sneak out of the kitchen, Dean’s thoughts turned to Sam and the frantic phone call from earlier. Sam actually sounded tense, which was out of character for his unflappable little brother. Out of all of them, Sam had a reputation in the field for being cool under pressure. He never let things get to him, and he never took work home. Sam was the perfect agent, according to Crowley. Dean might have been pissed, if he even cared. Before Sam came along, Dean had always been the golden boy in Crowley’s eyes. But being under the constant scrutiny of their boss would make anyone want to snap. Crowley wasn’t an easy man to work for, or with. Funnily enough, he was one of Dean’s best friends.

That phone call though. The whole thing was sending signals that made Dean feel uneasy and exposed. The fact that his brother had mentioned cops being on his tail so soon rankled, biting at the back of Dean’s mind. As undercover agents, they did their best to avoid police entanglements. Some local precincts would get a bug up their ass if they thought their toes were being stepped on by the Feds. Dean really fucking hoped that things were still on track. They couldn’t afford to lose now--there was too much at stake. Too many innocent lives. 

He forced himself to push the sick feelings away--they had come too far for shit to fall apart now. For over a year, their team had been working their magic, moving up in the ranks in various organizations, all for one, unified goal. They wanted Chuck Novak’s head on a silver platter.

The man behind Grace Avionics had his fingers in a lot of pies--unsavory ones, at that. He single-handedly had helped overthrow unstable governments, not to mention his client list read like the International Most Wanted List. The Securities and Exchange Commission was also poking at Novak’s eldest son, Lucifer, as well. It was no secret that the Novaks were in bed with some very nasty people.

Dean drained the rest of his beer and set it back down with a heavy clunk. Across the bar, Jo noticed, but she didn’t approach him with a refill. He lifted his eyes just in time to see Ash saunter out of the back with a paper bag clutched in his fist. The exchange of cash for cheap rotgut was done in silence before the long-haired dishwasher ambled away, stuffing Dean’s money into his well-worn jeans. 

He glanced up and caught Jo watching him, causing Dean to wink at her. He knew that she didn’t approve of Ash selling full bottles under the table, feeling as though it cut into her mother’s business. Everyone insisted that Ellen didn’t know, but Dean wouldn’t put it past the shrewd woman to just be turning a blind eye to her employee. She treated Ash like a son. Dean tossed a few bills on the counter to cover his beer and a tip and walked back outside. He knew that Sam was probably pissing himself by now, wondering where he was. Dean sighed as he cranked over the engine. He had a feeling that tonight was going to be long and unpleasant.

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't lie about the art, did I? It's awesome!!


	3. The Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel Meets Sam (officially) and there's a sexual tension fight!  
> Also, Chuck is the Worst.

Living with an older brother named Lucifer, who took pride in living up to his moniker, made sure that Gabriel grew up cunning and sneaky. Unfortunately, he also grew up to be something of a coward, as Luci was fond of pointing out. When the car began driving, Gabriel hadn’t panicked. He’d assumed that it was the police at first. However, once he started banging around in the trunk and could hear sirens wailing outside, he began to think that he was in over his head.

The last thing that he’d expected when the trunk opened was to be face to face with quite possibly the hottest guy he’d ever seen looking down at him in horror. Considering that Hottie McMuscles was alone, and looked shocked, made Gabe realize that he  _ hadn’t _ been found by the cops. So of course, he did the most logical thing he could and screamed into the duct tape. When Hot Dude, slammed the trunk on him once more, bathing Gabriel in darkness, he finally started to give into his nature and panic.

He knew that the first thing he had to accomplish was to get the fuck out of the trunk and figure out where he was. Maybe this guy would take pity on him. Then again, he’d obviously stolen Gabe’s car, which made him a criminal. And in his experience with some of the people his father worked with, criminals weren’t very nice. They definitely didn’t give out something for nothing. Oh, he was so fucked.

Gabe let himself scream for a little bit in frustration--and maybe a tiny bit of terror, before he began to feel around in the trunk with his fingers. The handcuffs made it difficult, but he managed. He knew that most vehicles contained emergency latches in the trunk nowadays and he was pleased to find that his own car boasted the same feature.

Clammy fingers closed around the small latch and he pulled frantically. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he let out a whooshing noise around the tape as the trunk popped open. All he could see at the moment was the ceiling, dark with industrial piping. Gabriel blinked at the overhead lights and pushed himself into a sitting position. 

Frantically, Gabe looked around at what he could see, hoping that no one was around. Despite the mystery car thief’s hotness, Gabriel just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He seemed to be alone for the moment, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. It took a bit of maneuvering, and he was much louder than he’d intended, but eventually he’d pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the trunk, his legs dangling. With a grunt and a hop, he got to his feet, wobbling.

His first order of business was to grab at the tape around his head, scrabbling at it with his short nails. He managed to work a small piece down and with a fierce tug, Gabriel ripped the tape off of him, pulling it out of his mouth. He yanked at the pieces in his hair, wincing as he felt some pull out at the root. He gave himself a moment to suck in a breath before bending down and digging around in his boot for the handcuff key.

The metal was hot and slippery in his fingers, warmed by the contact with his skin. It took a few seconds for him to get a decent grip on it, his fingers slipping. Once he’d freed his wrists, Gabriel hooked the cuffs on the back of his belt and shoved the key into the pocket of his jeans. He then ducked down to remove the tape from around his legs as well. When he was finally free, his head swiveled, eyes wild, as he took in his surroundings. 

It looked to be a garage or small warehouse of some sort. His car was parked in the center of the space. Behind him was a tall pallet of boxes, wrapped with clear plastic. A small loft showed a room that looked down on him, but all Gabe could make out was a barred window and a rickety looking metal ladder. His throat was dry and he swallowed harshly.

Moving toward the driver’s side of his car, Gabriel pulled open the door and looked around to see if his keys or wallet were nearby. Both were gone. He could see the wires poking out of the dash and steering column where the sexy robber had hot-wired his precious baby. Asshole.

Since taking his car was no longer an option, Gabriel did another quick scan, his eyes falling on a dented red toolbox on a shelf in the corner. Right on the top was a rusty crowbar. He practically dove for it, figuring that if someone found him, that at least he’d have a weapon.

He gripped the crowbar tightly, and tried to move silently toward the only door he could see. It was gleaming metal, and looked out of place in the rather dingy garage, as though it had been installed recently. The crowbar dangling at his side, Gabriel tugged violently on the door handle, shoving down a scream when it didn’t budge an inch.

With a frustrated growl, he yanked on the door a few times, making it rattle. It was locked tightly. He could feel the anger rising, and Gabriel knew that he was about ten seconds from blowing. According to his family, he’d always had the worst temper out of all of them. He reacted, and before Gabe even knew what he was doing, he was wailing away at the door with the crowbar. The metallic bangs echoed in the rather empty space. Gabriel knew that he was probably going to call unwanted attention to himself, but in his defense, it had been a hell of a week.

Gabe pulled back his arm, his mouth set, as he moved to hit the door again. To his utter shock, it swung open instead, revealing the tall hot criminal. There was a split second as the momentum from Gabriel’s arm brought the crowbar down toward the hottie. In an impressive display of reflexes, the man dodged to the left and managed to wrap his enormous hand around the makeshift weapon. It was a powerful move, and as the guy twisted, yanking the crowbar from Gabriel’s grip, a small voice in the back of his mind admitted that it was sexy as fuck. Their eyes met as the guy disarmed him, and Gabriel sucked in a breath before the realization that he was in danger hit him and he scrambled backwards.

The man held up his free hand, and stepped into the building. He slammed the door shut behind him, closing them in, as he tossed the crowbar away. “Woah,” he said. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Gabe was ashamed at the shriek that came out of his mouth. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to tell you that,” the guy said. He was still moving closer to Gabriel, his hands open and his face trying to look relaxed. “How’d you get out of the trunk?”

“It popped open,” Gabe sneered, still backing away. This guy had stolen his car, with him inside--which meant that he was a criminal. Criminals equaled danger and Gabe had way too much self-preservation to want to be in this situation any longer. “Just let me go,” he said, as calmly as he could muster. “I won’t say anything about anything.”

“I can’t do that,” the man said. “I need to figure out how we are going to handle this. You’re just going to have to stay here for a bit, until I get my orders.”

“Your orders?” Gabe snapped. “To what? Kill me?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man sounded horrified at the thought.

Gabriel muttered, “Yeah right,” and tried to dance away as the man reached for him. 

“Look, I’m not the one who put you in that trunk,” the guy said, his voice sounding strained. “This is all a misunderstanding. I’m not going to hurt you, but I can’t just let you go. Not yet.”

Gabriel snorted and eyed the man. He knew full well that tall, broad, and suited-up hadn’t put him in the damn trunk. But that didn’t mean the guy was trustworthy. After a moment of consideration, Gabe brought up his leg, in an attempt to kick the hot guy where it hurt. Unfortunately, he had short legs and wasn’t the most flexible of dudes on his best day. 

The man frowned as he slid away from the kick, eyes wide as he realized what Gabe had planned. A fluid, instinctual motion had him snatching Gabriel’s leg mid-kick, and twisting. Without warning, Gabriel’s other foot spun on the shiny concrete floor, and he was forcibly turned away, his hands coming up to smack against the wall. He was trying to balance, his one foot hopping about as his other was still held in an iron tight grip. “Oh, you wanna play, kiddo?”

His leg was released, but before he could move, the man was in his space, almost pressed against Gabriel’s back, blocking him in against the wall. “I said I wasn’t going to hurt you,” his breath puffed past Gabe’s ear, making him involuntarily shiver. “But I don’t want to fight.”

Suddenly Gabriel was released and the hot guy was walking away, back toward Gabe’s car. He blinked, unsure of what had just transpired, before his mind caught up to him. Yeah, the dude was sex on legs and ticked all of Gabriel’s personal preferences, but he had  _ kidnapped  _ him! In all of the scenarios that Gabe had come up with when he began to plan this whole scheme,  _ actually  _ being kidnapped hadn’t been one of them. 

His eyes were glued to the kid’s ass, in those perfectly tailored suit pants, as he walked away, but Gabe shook himself out of it. He had to get out of here. He had no doubt that he’d end up in a ditch with a bullet in his skull if he stayed. He had to move, before the handsome moose called for reinforcements.

Without another thought, Gabe pushed off of the wall and took off at a run, chasing the guy down. He might be a foot taller, but Gabe was scrappy, and he was fighting for his life. He launched and jumped, wrapping his arms around the guy’s neck, the momentum sending both of them crashing to the ground. 

Twin groans, as the air was punched from their chests as they hit, echoed in the garage. Gabriel wasted no time in swinging out with his fist, and he grinned ferally when he felt it connect to the man’s head. The guy grabbed his wrist painfully and rolled, but Gabe used his smaller stature to his advantage and managed to wriggle away. He snapped his legs for good measure, landing contact against a shin, earning a pained noise from the sexy thief. 

“What is  _ wrong  _ with you, man?” The thief shouted, even as he hissed at the kick to his leg. 

Desperately, Gabriel lashed out with his hands, fingers clenched into claws as he attempted to rake them down the man’s face. To his horror, the guy flung a hand out and in one smooth motion captured both of Gabe’s wrists in one incredibly large hand. He spared a moment to wonder if the kid was big all over before he was rolled. In an instant, Gabriel found himself trapped, pinned under the weight of a handsome criminal. His hands were wrenched over his head, their torsos slotted together as the guy held him down firmly. 

Gabriel sucked in a breath as he realized how close their faces were. Son of a bitch, the kid had gorgeous eyes! Above him, the guy shifted his weight, trying to maintain control, and that’s when Gabe felt it. There was no mistaking that the kid had half a chub as he held Gabriel down. Oh, he could work with that—and it wouldn’t even be a hardship.

Biting his lip and shooting a defiant look through his lashes at the man on top of him, Gabriel deliberately rolled his hips. The friction affected him too, and he felt the blood rush south. The dazed look in the kid’s eyes combined with a breathy groan almost did him in, but Gabe kept the saucy smirk plastered on as he repeated the move again. 

By now, the guy was fully hard against Gabe’s thigh, and he was ecstatic to note that the kid apparently  _ was  _ proportional. Their eyes locked in full blown lust, causing Gabe to automatically lick his lips. The shimmering hazel eyes above him darkened and Gabriel bit back a chuckle. 

Finally, things were getting a little interesting. Both of them moved fractionally, their lips barely brushing, when there was a crashing bang, and the previously locked door flew open, causing them both to start. “Sammy!” A strange voice shouted out.

Gabe quirked an eyebrow up at the man on top of him. “Sammy?” he whispered playfully.

“Shut up,” the guy hissed, looking slightly panicked. 

Well...at least he had a name for tall, hot, and dangerous.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam knew that Gabriel Novak was going to be trouble as soon as he saw that smirk on the guy’s driver’s license. He just didn’t know exactly what kind of trouble. He had to have the worst luck possibly when it came to sex and romance, because being this turned on in such a fucked up situation was Sam’s worst nightmare come to life. 

He had absolutely been about to kiss the shorter man underneath him when Dean arrived, sending Sam’s brain into panic mode. He tensed, making an effort to try and at least stand. He had to get out of this horribly compromising position before Dean saw and gave him shit about it for the rest of eternity. 

Unfortunately for Sam, he just wasn’t quick enough. When Gabriel had whispered his name in that soft growl, every molecule in Sam’s body reacted. He liked the sound of his name on Gabriel Novak’s lips. He liked it too much. 

There was a scuffle of boots nearby, and Sam could see the shadow of his brother fall across the floor. He craned his neck to look up, even as he tightened his grip on Gabriel’s wrists.

“Woah, dude,” Dean’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he took in the scene before him. “I know you haven’t gotten laid in a while, but really?”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam grumbled, finally pulling himself to his feet. Before Gabriel could scramble away, he grabbed the smaller man’s shoulder and yanked him up as well, holding the compact, wriggling body against his chest. “He attacked me.”

“So you decided to dry hump him?” Dean was grinning.

“I’m not talking about this,” Sam grit his teeth. “Go wait in the office, I’m going to secure him.”

“What?” Gabriel squawked and wiggled some more. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

Sam could feel a migraine setting in. “I’m not,” he sighed. “I just can’t have you running around and trying to escape or making another sad attempt to beat one of us up.”

Gabe pouted his lips and twisted to look up at him. “Sammy,” he whined. It made Sam want to kiss the pout off of those plump lips. Bastard. 

“How does he know your name?” Dean’s eyes were suddenly hard. 

“Because you shouted it out when you walked in,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Just give me a minute.” He tightened his grip on Gabriel and began to march him toward the back of the warehouse. The small bathroom would be the easiest place to contain the little spitfire until Sam and Dean could decide how to handle this whole disaster. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Gabriel sounded apprehensive. Sam hated the tone. 

“Nothing,” he said. “I just need you out of the way for a moment while we figure out what to do.”

He ignored the twist in his gut as those stunning honey-colored eyes blinked widely up at him. Sam slid his hands around his back and unhooked his regulation issued Bureau cuffs from his belt as they entered the bathroom. He spun Gabriel around to face him and their eyes met again. Sam dipped his head closer, enjoying the look of wonder and pure desire on Novak’s face. Using the distraction to his advantage, he slipped the cuffs around one of Gabriel’s wrists before locking it around the metal pipe that ran from the toilet to the ceiling.

Novak’s mouth dropped open and his eyes blazed in fury. “You little shit,” he hissed. 

“Like I said, I need you contained for now.”

“Oh,” Gabriel dragged out the word in a mocking tone. “So you don’t want to play anymore, kiddo?” He slid his eyes pointedly down to Sam’s crotch.

He could feel his face heat under the scrutiny and all he could manage was a noise somewhere between a whine and a growl. Sam backed out of the room, his eyes on the floor, as Gabriel rattled the cuff with his arm and yelled, “Sammy!”

“It’s Sam,” he replied before closing the door with a sharp slam. 

Giving himself a moment, Sam leaned his forehead against the bathroom door, eyes shut, as he listened to Gabriel pulling on the cuffs and shouting. He needed to get to Dean and hash out the plan. The sooner that Gabriel Richard Novak was out of the picture, the better off Sam would be. Fuck, this was just a shit day all around.

*~*~*~*~*~*

One didn’t attain the rank of a ‘god amongst men’ without cunning, ambition, and a streak of ruthlessness. Chuck Novak was no exception. Though, he did his best to keep his hands clean on the more distasteful tasks that his business required. That was why he employed Arthur Ketch.

The British “security expert” was stoic, professional, and unflappable—all things that Chuck valued in a trusted employee. Over the years, Chuck had given Ketch assignments that most would balk at, (or even report to the authorities), and each time, Ketch would carry out the task flawlessly. He was fastidious and never left loose ends that would endanger Chuck or his family. In fact, there had only been two incidents in the past that hadn’t gone as planned, but both messes were dealt with quickly and harshly. Ketch was a perfectionist, and these days, Chuck’s most loyal and devoted employee. If Chuck Novak had ties as mundane as friendship, Arthur Ketch would have been his best friend. 

For the most part, Ketch was never summoned unless things had already gone to hell. The times when Chuck’s business, or in this case—personal dealings had strayed beyond regular skill. Chuck had only used Ketch on one other personal matter before. His sister had been making noises in the boardroom about a few of their overseas practices. When Chuck’s IT supervisor had reported a few flagged files on her computer, detailing information that could be sent along to the FBI, he’d called Arthur Ketch. Occasionally he would experience a brief flash of regret around Amara’s birthday, but for the most part, his deceased sibling rarely crossed his mind. Castiel and Gabriel had been young enough to accept that their aunt died in a tragic car accident—only Lucifer knew the truth.

It took Chuck a long time after Castiel had left before he dialed the familiar number. When the call connected, there was only one word. “Ketch.”

Chuck allowed himself to take a deep breath before putting things into motion. “Arthur,” he said. “I need you.”

There was no hesitation. “I’m on my way.”

Hanging up without another word, Chuck Novak set his phone down on his desk and stared at the framed picture of his children on the bookshelf. It was old, Cas and Gabe were still teenagers. His three sons, standing together. Castiel awkwardly stiff, with Gabriel in the center, his arm thrown over his younger brother’s shoulder as he grinned saucily at the camera. Lucifer on the right, turned slightly away from his siblings, arms crossed and his icy blue eyes—so like his mother’s—staring directly into the camera. It captured his sons so perfectly. It was almost a shame that one of them may not be long for this world. 

Sometimes Chuck wondered what his life would be like if he loved his sons. Truly loved them. He wouldn’t be as successful if he allowed personal bias or emotions to cloud his judgement. He knew that sending Ketch out after Gabriel in order to make sure that Castiel did his job could end in disaster. He just couldn’t find it in him to care. 

Chuck Novak couldn’t afford to make exceptions. Not for anyone. If this was another one of Gabriel’s tricks, he would pay dearly for it. Chuck needed his children to obey, and Gabriel craved rebellion. In the end, Castiel would bring his brother home to face their father’s justice, or Ketch would make his move. 

Either way, Chuck knew that within the week, the son that he once knew would be dead.

*~*~*~*~*~*


	4. I'm No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie's here, b*tches!  
> Things are going from bad to worse.  
> Gabriel and Dean do NOT hit it off.

Despite his father’s and siblings’ views, Castiel was not as clueless as any of them thought. He had trouble picking up social cues and he was totally lost when anyone mentioned pop culture, (he still didn’t understand why Gabriel kept referring to him as a Hufflepuff—whatever  _ that  _ was), but Castiel was  _ far _ from inept. He’d honestly been waiting for something like this to happen for years. Gabriel wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think. 

Truthfully, Cas had hoped that his father wouldn’t involve him when he’d learned of his older brother’s kidnapping; though he wasn’t all that shocked when he was summoned. He also wasn’t at all surprised at the blame that Chuck was placing on his shoulders. He  _ was  _ responsible for Gabriel’s well-being, and if the threat turned out to be credible then Cas had failed his duty. If, however, this whole disaster was one of Gabriel’s games, then Castiel would still take the blame for not stepping in and preventing Gabriel from doing something monumentally stupid. 

He was unsure if Gabriel’s ultimate goal was to extort money from their father, or if this was yet another cry for attention. If he was going to find his brother and clean up this mess, then Castiel was planning to operate under the assumption that this was a legitimate kidnapping and that the only family member he cared for was in danger. Not much moved Castiel Novak to displays of emotion like a threat to those he loved. He was willing to do anything to protect people who he considered to be under his wings, so to speak. 

Castiel pulled his Lexus into the parking garage where his brother’s car was last seen and parked on the third level, where Chuck had been told Gabriel would be found. Taking the time to scan the dim structure from the interior of his vehicle, Castiel noted that there weren’t many cars parked on this level. There had been far more traffic on the ones below. He wondered if the roof parking was mostly deserted as well; though he wasn’t surprised that the kidnappers had discounted that level simply because they could be spotted by a helicopter.

Exiting the Lexus, Cas walked to the edge of the wall and looked down at the churning flow of the river three stories below. It would be an easy place to dispose of any evidence if there was a need for such a thing. The police would most likely discount searching the river, even for someone as high profile as Chuck Novak. That is, unless there was a body to be found. Deliberately closing his mind off from such thoughts, Cas forced himself to believe that Gabriel was still alive. 

As he returned to his car, Castiel locked himself in and dialed up his ace in the hole. Charlie Bradbury had been a part of Castiel’s group at university. Both of them were drawn to one another due to their above average intelligence and interest in the technological aspect of their chosen majors. Despite her valiant efforts though, Charlie had never managed to indoctrinate Cas into the world of geekdom. He remained woefully ignorant of all the books and movies that his friend seemed to live for. Despite it, they had still been incredibly close during that period of their youth. 

The last he’d heard, Charlie had gone on to work for the government, using her impressive skills to help catch the bad guys. After Castiel had rescued her from a rather horrifying situation at a fraternity party, she’d told him that he could call in a favor—any time, any place,  _ anything  _ he wanted. He’d never used the marker...until now. 

Charlie answered on the third ring with a “What’s up, bitch!”

“Charlie.”

“Holy flashback,” Charlie sounded surprised. “Cas?”

“Indeed.”

“Damn, I haven’t heard from you in a few years,” Charlie’s bubbly personality hadn’t dimmed with time. “How have you been?”

“Fine, I suppose,” Cas sighed. “I hate to do this, but you told me that you owed me a favor.”

“Anything.” There was no hesitation in his friend’s voice. 

“It’s slightly illegal,” Castiel prefaced. 

There was a low hum of amusement on the other end of the phone. “My favorite kind. Seriously though, Cas—anything for you.”

He released a breath, unaware of how much relief he would feel with confirmation that she would help. Charlie was unsurpassed when it came to hacking and tracking. If she couldn’t help him, then the chances of anyone finding Gabriel were slim to none. 

“I’m sure that you haven’t heard because we’ve tried to keep this incident out of the tabloids,” Castiel said. “But my brother has been apparently kidnapped.”

“Lucifer or Gabriel?”

“Gabriel.”

The smile in Charlie’s voice was evident as she teased, “Good. If it was Lucifer I might not help you—favor or no.”

He knew she was joking, but he didn’t blame her. Castiel knew that his father and eldest brother hid things from him in regards to their business. He wasn’t ignorant. There weren’t many ways for someone to legally amass the amount of wealth that Chuck Novak had. Cas was just thankful that he was kept on the outside of that part of their trade. If Charlie was indeed working for some government agency, then he was sure that Lucifer was somewhere on her radar. He just didn’t want to know about it. 

“My father received a call once he released the ransom, telling him that Gabriel would be found in the trunk of his own vehicle. However, before law enforcement could arrive, Gabriel’s car was seen exiting the parking unit, being driven by an unknown male.”

“I’m assuming that the car was parked somewhere with security cameras?” Charlie was all business. 

“Yes.” He rattled off the address of the parking garage and also informed her of the proximity to the shopping center. 

“I gotcha, my little ‘Puff,” Charlie said. 

He could hear her fingers flying over the keys of her laptop as he sighed at her terminology. “Charlie,” he shook his head, eyes shut. “I still don’t understand what a Hufflepuff is.”

“And I’m still horrified about that fact,” his friend chirped. “All right,” Charlie said a second later. “That was easy peasy. I’m sending you the video uplinks for the security cameras on that level. Should come through to your email any second. 

Castiel pulled up his mail, placing Charlie’s call on speaker so he could see what she’d found. There was a file link in the message and Castiel clicked, a grainy security video coming to life on his screen. The shot gave a perfect view of his brother’s car. Unfortunately, the first thing that he saw was Gabriel tying himself up with tape and hopping in the trunk on his own car, with no one else around. Cas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

_ ‘What were you thinking, Gabriel?’  _ He thought bitterly. 

“Anything interesting?” Charlie asked. 

“Sadly, yes,” Cas didn’t want to tell her and risk exposing his brother. If this got out, it would hit their family hard. Mostly because it would affect business, and Chuck would  _ make  _ things difficult for them all because of the scandal. He was grateful that Charlie didn’t push. 

Just as Cas was about to thank his friend for coming through for him, something caught his eye. He tilted his head and watched the video intensely. A man in a tailored, dark suit was walking briskly through the garage. His head was in constant motion as he seemed to be looking for something. Castiel narrowed his eyes as he watched the man’s gaze fall onto Gabriel’s BMW. 

There was hardly even the slightest hesitation before the man was sliding up to the driver’s side of his brother’s car and fiddling with the handle. Moments later the door popped open and the man in the suit slid into the seat. The speed at which the car came to life and peeled out of the parking garage was impressive. The thief obviously knew what he was doing and was good with his rather unconventional skill set. 

What bothered Castiel the most was how familiar the man looked. 

As he wracked his brain, trying to place the mystery car thief, he could hear Charlie chattering away about her latest LARPing weekend. She’d always been heavily into that scene, trying to recruit her friends to act as her knights and squires in the fictional realm of Moondor. Thankfully, Castiel had managed to avoid such a fate in college. Just as Charlie was regaling him with tales of the newest addition to her court, a man named Sam, it hit him. 

_ Sam.  _

That was it. That’s how he recognized the man who hotwired his brother’s car—it was the new contact that Gordon Walker had been pestering Chuck about for the last few months. Castiel was certain. He’d met the man twice before and it wasn’t easy to forget someone who not only towered over everyone else in the room, but also looked like a underwear model with genius-level IQ. “Wesson,” he hissed. 

“What?” Charlie cut herself off, her voice clipped and wary. “What did you say?”

“Sam Wesson,” Cas repeated. “What does he have to do with my brother? Why would he be involved in this?”

“Did you say Sam Wesson?” There was no disguising the hitch of panic in Charlie’s words. 

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. He began to speak softly, almost to himself, as he tried to work through what he knew. “He’s a middle man moving up the ladder at Grace,” he explained. “One of our higher consultants has been touting him for months, trying to get Wesson on a permanent contract with my father. He’s rather unmistakable, but I don’t understand why he would be on this footage, stealing my brother’s car with Gabriel locked in the trunk.”

“Cas,” Charlie said suddenly. “I’ve gotta go. Don’t call me back on this number,” she begged. “I’ll call you.”

Before he could say a word, the connection went dead, leaving Castiel in silence as he watched the footage of Samuel Wesson over and over. He was more confused now than ever, and the concern for Gabriel’s well-being was becoming the only thing he could manage to focus on for the time being.

What in the hell was going on?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Stomping into the office, Sam ignored his brother’s glare as he flopped down onto the ripped leather couch next to him. Dean watched his every move with that  _ look _ in his eyes. The obnoxious, _ knowing _ , ‘big brother’ look where he always seemed to be laughing at Sam’s expense. It was beyond infuriating. 

His brother had pulled his precious car into one of the spare bays and was already sipping a beer. He gestured to the scratched, metal foot locker that they used as a makeshift coffee table, indicating another bottle, beading with condensation. It was tempting, but he’d already had enough. As he silently stared at the beer, Dean watched him carefully before he said, “I grabbed you one.” Dean sounded almost insulted that Sam hadn’t seemed to notice the uncharacteristically nice gesture.

“I’m good,” Sam didn’t want his mind any more cloudy than it already was. The muffled sound of Gabriel rattling his cuffs could be heard from the direction of the bathroom and both Winchesters turned their heads towards the noise. 

“Who’s your new boyfriend?” Dean asked. The words were deceptively casual, and only the fact that Sam was so intune with Dean that he could tell his brother was barely holding back from laying into him. 

He snorted and angled his body to look at Dean who was taking a sip of beer and eyeing Sam over the top of the bottle. “Would you believe me if I said that he’s the owner of the car I hotwired to get here?”

A single raised eyebrow was the only movement from Dean’s side of the couch for a full minute. “The owner?” Sam nodded once. “Of that yellow piece of eurotrash out there?”

“Yup.”

“Why the fuck do you have the owner with you?”

Sam allowed a second to close his eyes and try to remain calm. He knew that Dean was going to flip shit when the whole story came out. “I went to the spot, and Gordon was a no show,” Sam began. Once Dean acknowledged, he went through the tale of the girls in the elevator, choosing the BMW, and the police chase, culminating with his arrival back at the warehouse.

“I grabbed a beer, and waited for you—thanks for taking your sweet fucking time, by the way,” Sam snapped. 

“You’re welcome,” Dean’s grin held an edge. 

Ignoring him, Sam continued. “And I hear something. There’s a noise coming from the car, I go and take a look and the car was moving.” 

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Moving?”

“Yeah,” Sam was still trying to wrap his head around the last few hours himself. Talking through the events with his brother was helpful, but he still didn’t know what they were going to do with the attractive blonde that was being detained in their restroom. 

As if on cue, there was another bout of clanging from the cuffs, combined with Gabriel shouting profanities at them. Something crashed, but since their prisoner was still calling them ‘Dick Bags,’ Sam figured that it wasn’t anything overly important. 

“By this point I had my gun out,” Sam said. 

“I’m glad that  _ something  _ Bobby and I drilled into you stuck, because so far—you’ve been acting as stupid as you look,” Dean snarked. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” Sam glared. “Anyway, I popped the trunk and…”

“And what?”

Sam spread his hands and attempted a shrug, lips pursed. “Boom.”

“Boom?”

“The fucking owner is in the trunk.” He let Dean gape at him; mouth dropped, while he blinks in either shock or confusion at Sam’s words. “He was handcuffed and duct taped—mouth gagged and everything. Dean,” Sam met his brother’s eyes. “I think he was kidnapped and stuffed into his own car.”

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Dean finally pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke. “The little dude you were grinding on was in the trunk of the car you stole?”

“I wasn’t  _ grinding  _ on him,” Sam insisted. 

“You totally were Samantha, but that’s not the point here,” Dean said. “Why do you think he’s the owner?”

“Because there was a wallet in the car with his picture on the driver’s license,” Sam shot him a bitchface. “Not to mention, the vanity plates which have his initials on them.”

Dean seemed to consider that for a moment. “Have you talked to Crowley yet?”

“No,” Sam said. He really didn’t want to have to say the rest. “Dean, it gets worse.”

“Oh, please don’t fucking say that,” Dean groaned and slumped back onto the sofa, his eyes clenched. 

Something was rhythmically thumping in the closed restroom. It sounded as though Gabriel was repeatedly kicking at the wall or some other surface. Sam tried not to think about it. There wasn’t much in there except for the toilet, sink, and mirror, so he wasn’t too concerned about Gabriel breaking something important. It was still unsettling, and made Sam’s stomach feel slimy.

He tried to push thoughts of Gabriel from his mind and focus on Dean. Sucking in a breath, Sam decided that he may as well rip the bandaid off, pull the trigger, whatever—either way, they were in a shit load of trouble. “Name on the license is Gabriel Richard Novak.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he stared blankly ahead. “Novak?” He finally repeated softly. “The same Gabriel Novak that...”

“Same name. Same address,” Sam confirmed. “It’s gotta be him. God’s middle son.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean said. “This could blow up in our faces.”

“I know.”

“You picked the wrong damn car to steal, Sammy.”

“I know.”

“We gotta call Crowley and see how he wants to handle this.”

“Yeah Dean,” Sam felt beyond exhausted. “I  _ know _ .”

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the garage from behind the locked bathroom door. 

“He broke the fucking mirror, Sam.”

“I know, Dean.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It had only taken a few kicks to hit the mirror above the sink enough to break. The hardest part, which Gabe was loathe to admit, was the fact that he could just barely reach the damn thing with his foot. Sometimes being on the shorter side was the absolute worst. He let his mind drift to his captor, Sam. The kid was a giant, but Gabriel didn’t envy him. He’d be happy at around six foot like Cassie. Sam the Sexy Scoundrel was beyond that, probably closing six four or five. Gabriel wouldn’t want to be that tall. However, Sam’s height was a selling point that just made him even more attractive despite their unorthodox situation. Gabriel knew that he had a rather overpowering personality, and a man of Sam’s stature would be able to make him seem smaller and a bit more delicate—and that was all kinds of hot. 

Gabe looked down at the jagged pieces of mirror littering the cracked tile floor and attempted to push away his inappropriate lusting. Sam was damn fine—fact. But he was also forcibly detaining Gabriel and a criminal to boot—also a fact. Their affair was fated to never be, so there was no reason for Gabe to dwell on it. Star-crossed lovers on opposing sides never worked out in the real world. And he’d always thought Romeo and Juliet were quite possibly the dumbest literary characters in all of existence. Who even thought that falling in love with their enemy in a few days was a good idea in the first place? Not to mention the whole taking drugs from a priest thing. Morons. 

Speaking of moronic, Gabriel clenched his eyes shut and groaned when he finally remembered that he had an escape route. How could he have forgotten the keys to his own cuffs still in his pocket? What an idiot. Not for the last time, Gabriel berated himself for being unobservant. He’d let it slide a bit this time since he could claim distraction in the form of six-foot-four of ripped, muscular lust. He wiggled about until he could get his free hand into his pants pocket and dug around. 

Just as he grasped the key, the sound of heavy footsteps approached the bathroom, and Gabriel made a split second decision. He wasn’t going to cower behind the toilet and hope that Sam and his equally hot accomplice would have mercy on him. Over the course of his thirty years on earth, Gabe had discovered that he had a talent for being an obnoxious brat when the need arose. He had an inkling that Sam wasn’t going to shoot him, so Gabe felt that he could ignore sense and just irritate the kid until he let him go. He didn’t really have anything to lose. Besides that, Gabriel was actually pretty pissed off that his carefully orchestrated plan had been destroyed by a petty car thief. So he had some anger issues to work out as it was. 

The lock clicked and the door to the bathroom swung open to reveal Sam. He looked exhausted and more than a little frustrated. Gabriel watched him look resignedly at the broken mirror before their eyes met. 

“Look at this, you Moose!” Gabe snapped, jerking his head toward the shattered remains of the mirror. “I broke a damn mirror because of you! That’s seven years of bad luck and I can’t afford any more shitty fortune right now.” His eyes flashed as his gorgeous kidnapper looked to be stifling a hysterical giggle. 

“Okay, first of all, I’m not a Moose,” Sam said. 

“Fine, Samsquatch,” Gabe sneered. Just because he wanted to get the kid horizontal didn’t mean that he was going to be nice to the man who stole his car, and handcuffed him to a freaking pipe!

“It’s Sam,” he said with a glare. 

“Well, since I now know what name you’d like me to shout in ecstasy later, I guess I can tell you what name  _ you’re _ going to scream, as I plow you through the floor.” He smirked at the redness of Sam’s face from his statement. “You can call me Gabriel, kiddo,” he winked. 

“I’m aware,” Sam said through his teeth. “Gabriel Novak, to be precise.”

Furrowing his brow, Gabriel tried to figure out how Sam knew who he was. The fact that the man had driven off with his car while he was stuffed in the trunk, was harrowing enough. Now that Sam revealed that he knew who Gabe was, it was beyond unsettling. What was going on here?

Before Gabe could work himself up too much, Sam inclined his head lightly. “Your wallet was in the car.”

_ Oh thank fuck. _ Their eyes met and Gabriel unintentionally jerked his cuffed wrist, making a loud metallic clang. He had to admit, it was a little kinky—especially when Sam was looking at him like  _ that _ . Not that anything would come of this. Just some lustful glances and uncomfortable pants. He found himself having to concentrate to stop himself from becoming fully turned on. This was a bad idea—probably the worst he’d ever come up with  _ including  _ staging his own kidnapping. Unfortunately for Gabe’s half hard dick, Sam looked to be just as affected. Shame. That body, combined with the height advantage and a little bdsm sounded like heaven on earth to Gabriel. 

He shook his head, in a futile attempt to stamp down on the rising erotic feelings, but it didn’t take very well. He was almost totally erect, and he knew that Sam noticed. His preference for tight pants never did much to hide the fact that Gabe had been blessed in the dick department. It was one of the reasons that he tended to bottom—most men were intimidated when they saw what he was packing. Sam was just staring straight at his junk and—oh fuck—licking his lips. 

Sam’s eyes slid up and met his. In an attempt to seem collected, Gabriel smirked and said, “See something you like, kiddo?”

He was surprised when Sam’s expression melted into something cocky. “Just wondering if I should have gagged you too—you talk too much,  _ Angel. _ ” 

Oh, that was low. Twisting his name into a sick little endearment and threatening to keep him quiet.  _ Christ _ . If they kept up this ridiculous game of inappropriate teasing, Gabriel was worried that he might actually come untouched in his pants like a teenager. And wouldn’t  _ that  _ be the  _ worst _ possible impression.

“I don’t think you have it in you to shut me up, Sammy.”  _ Oh my fuck—stop talking, Gabe! _

Heat flashed in Sam’s intoxicating hazel eyes at the flirty challenge. “I’m sure I could think of something that would make you unable to speak.”

Gabriel pulled on the handcuffs again, and straightened to his full height, which was ridiculous in comparison to the gorgeous giant that was taunting him. “Oh yeah, kiddo?”

There was a full beat as they eyed up one another. Sam worked his jaw for a moment before he opened his mouth to reply—something that would go straight to Gabe’s dick, no doubt—when a voice sounded, breaking the spell.

“Sammy,” the other man interrupted their heated glares, which was infuriating, to say the least. “We got problems.”

Sam turned toward his accomplice, and over his broad shoulder, Gabe could see the other criminal watching them, brandishing a cheap cell phone. “What else could  _ possibly  _ make this worse, Dean?” Sam’s jaw was clenched. 

The man named Dean grimaced, but didn’t comment on the fact that Sam had revealed his name. “Crowley called,” Dean said, and Gabe could feel Sam tense. “Apparently Charlie is friends with the youngest Novak, Cassa-something.”

“Castiel,” both Sam and Gabriel spoke.

“Yeah, him,” Dean nodded. “He reached out to her and called in a marker to get a hack of the security feeds from that parking garage.”

“Fuck,” Sam whispered. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “She had no idea you were involved when he asked. Dude ID-ed you too,” he said. “Well, your alias, anyway.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes as Sam, (if that was that even his name), raked both hands over his face. “Okay,” Sam said. “At least we aren’t totally blown. If Castiel recognizes me under my cover we could still salvage this.”

“Lemme guess,” Gabe chimed in dryly. “Your name isn’t really Sam?” Before either of his captors could respond he huffed a dramatic sigh. “Shame. I had so many fun nicknames for you with ‘Sam’ at the root.” He shook his head pretending to be disappointed.

Dean rolled his eyes at the teasing, but Sam turned to face him looking confused and slightly upset. “No, it’s Sam,” he said. “I’m Sam.”

He flinched when Dean smacked him in the shoulder and hissed, “Dude! That was your pass to get out of this with the obnoxious little gnome not knowing who you are!”

Gabriel was surprised when he heard Sam’s indignant, “Hey,” at the same time as his own. He glanced up at Sam who was looking at his companion with irritation. “You don’t have to be a dick to him because you’re mad at me, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Gabe finally said. “I’m not a gnome!”

Sam looked at him curiously. “ _ That’s _ what offended you?”

He couldn’t resist and naughty smirk in Sam’s direction when he said, “My family has called me way worse than obnoxious, and why should I be upset? It’s true,” he winked playfully. “But don’t disparage the looks,” he pointed a finger of his free hand at Dean while trying to look as menacing as possible when cuffed to a bathroom pipe. “You wish you looked as fine as me, Fabio.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes again, while Sam was obviously trying to hold back a chuckle of his own. The moment was broken though, when they all began to realize that this situation was deadly serious—for all of them.

Fixing Sam with a look, Dean spoke. “Crowley said that we have to vacate before this Castlel—“

“Castiel.” Gabe and Sam said in unison once again. 

“Yeah, him. Crowley said he knows this location and we’ve gotta get out of Dodge.”

“He’s right,” Sam said. “He’s met me in the area before. Down at the Roadhouse. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to poke around and figure out which building he’s looking for.”

“We gotta ditch the pixie.”

“What did you call me?” Gabe wrinkled his nose wondering how offended he should be. At least he wasn’t a gnome anymore. 

Both of them ignored him and began to talk about making a getaway. They were speaking in jumbled code words and soon enough, Gabe found himself lost. In frustration he finally managed to capture their attention by using the obnoxious clang of the handcuffs. “You know, you psychos could just leave me here for Cassie to find,” he suggested. “I won’t say a word about either of you. As far as anyone would know—I’ve never saw your face.”

Sam regarded him as though he was considering releasing him and Gabriel felt a spark of hope, which was thoroughly extinguished by Dean. “No way,” he snapped. “We don’t know anything about you besides that your family is into some bad shit. I’d trust a broken condom more than you.”

Opening his lips in a mockery of surprise, Gabriel gestured to himself with his unrestrained hand. “Me? I’m incredibly trustworthy. Not like those other Novaks,” he tried. “I swear—I don’t even  _ like  _ them. Well,” he amended. “I like Cassie. But I would  _ never  _ tell him anything,” Gabe rushed on. He turned his face to Sam’s and tried to look as appealing and innocent as possible. “Come on Samalicious,” he did everything but bat his damn eyelashes at the kid. “I know you like me—we’re friends, yeah? Just turn me loose and I can find Cas and we can all wash our hands of this disaster.”

He got a full fifteen seconds where it seemed he’d won before Sam’s face closed off. “We aren’t  _ friends,  _ Gabriel.”

“But you  _ do _ like me.”

“No I don’t,” Sam shot back. 

“Don’t be a liar, Sammy,” Dean snorted. He got twin glares for the comment and simply held up his hands and pretended to retreat. 

Looking thoroughly annoyed, (Gabe knew the signs from always getting the same face from Lucifer), Sam subtly ran his eyes over Gabe’s body. “You’re coming with us.”

“What?” He shrieked in a very manly way, and didn’t sound at all like a second grader who’d just been surprised with extra homework. 

“Great,” Dean said. “We can toss him in Baby’s trunk and drop him somewhere out of town. By the time he finds civilization we can be back at headquarters and figure out how we’re gonna fix this mess.”

Panic rose in him. More than he felt thinking about two criminals taking him along for the ride was the cold, dark, clawing fear of being left alone in the middle of nowhere. Gabriel  _ hated _ nature. And walking. Not to mention shady, strangers with bad breath who would be the type to pick up a hitchhiker. He was pretty—and he didn’t see that scenario going well for him. “You can’t shove me in another trunk! I’ve already been in one today and that was traumatic enough!,” he tried to reason. “I’ll get a complex. And I doubt you would be willing to pay for my therapy. Running around stealing cars doesn’t inspire much confidence in your financial status. And you certainly can’t  _ dump _ me on the side of the highway like a cigarette that you flicked out the fucking window!”

“We can do whatever we—“ 

Dean was silenced by Sam breaking in firmly. “We’re taking him to Crowley.” There was no room for debate at the taller man’s tone. “This is already a disaster of epic proportions and we need to do what we can to keep ourselves in play.”

For a moment, it looked as though Dean would argue. When he stepped back with a single shake of his head, Gabriel didn’t miss the flash of surprise on Sam’s face. “Fine. We’ll take him to Crowley. Whatever you say, Sammy.” Dean spun and walked away, the sound of his work boots echoing ominously. 

At least he wasn’t being tossed out like trash in the wilderness. Sam moved toward him, pulling the small handcuff key from his pocket. Gabriel kept his eyes on Sam’s face as the other man unlocked the cuffs and gripped his arm firmly once he was free. Unconsciously rubbing at the reddened skin of his wrist, Gabe only put a minor effort into trying to twist out of Sam’s grip as he was pulled from the dingy bathroom. 

“I’m coming back for my car, you know,” Gabe said in a defiant voice. “I actually like that car.”

As they approached a huge, black, muscle car, parked near the large bay doors, Dean spoke up from next to the trunk. “I’m sure that you can afford a new one.”

“Not the point,” Gabriel snapped at him. “But what do you know? You stole it,” he looked up at Sam angrily. “What would a car thief know about pride of ownership?”

“Watch it, Tinkerbell,” Dean snapped, before turning and popping the trunk. He looked back at Gabriel and pointed to the space. “Get in.”

“No way!” Gabe repeated. “I’m not getting in there.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Dean growled. 

Since Sam hadn’t commented, or let go of him, Gabe found himself shrinking back into the taller man’s chest in an attempt to put distance between himself and Dean. “What’s the hard way?” He couldn’t help the sass from slipping out. 

Dean groaned and closed his eyes. “It’s...it’s harder than the easy way,” he sounded brittle and frustrated. 

“No,” Gabe said again, shaking his head. His eyes darted around and fell on the small shelf next to them. He wiggled enough to grab a woolen, knit beanie lying there, and jammed it on his head, covering his eyes. “What about this? See? I can’t see anything.”

He could hear the disbelieving snort from both men. The cap was pulled off of his head and he blinked as his eyes readjusted to the fluorescent lights once more. “How stupid do you think we are?” Dean sneered. 

“How stupid is there?” Gabe shot back, grinning.

Sam’s hand left Gabe’s arm and he watched as the taller man held up the cap toward the lights and attempted to look through the material. “He’s not wrong, Dean,” Sam tossed the cap to the other thief. “It’s a tight weave knit, no light is coming through.”

Making a show of looking at it himself, Dean grumbled under his breath about irritating pixies and Sam going ‘soft.’ Both of them watched as Dean held the beanie up multiple times, poking and grumbling before he huffed. “Get in the back,” he said as he threw the hat to Gabe. 

He was more than a little surprised when Sam plucked the hat from his hands and very gently placed it over his hair. Gabriel found himself blinking up at his captor who was treating him like something to be handled with care. It was an entirely innocent gesture; something a parent would do for a small child. Which was why it seemed so intense and monumental for Gabriel. He’d rarely been helped with anything as a kid—and never as though it wasn’t an inconvenience. Sam gave him a hesitant smile and something warm fluttered in Gabe’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” Sam sounded sincere. “This will be over soon, I promise. All of this—it’s not what it looks like.”

He placed a hand on the small of Gabriel’s back and began to guide him toward the backseat of the car. “Keep the hat over your eyes or Dean will flip.” As he helped Gabriel into the back, he said, “Just trust me. We aren’t the bad guys.”

When the door closed and Sam moved to the passenger seat, Gabriel narrowed his eyes in thought, watching the two men holding him captive. He knew it was insane, and horribly stupid to even consider trusting the man who stole his car and handcuffed him, but there was something in Sam’s tone that made Gabe wonder. What really  _ was _ going on here? And had he inadvertently botched his fake abduction so badly that he’d finally stumbled into something more serious than even  _ he  _ could handle?

*~*~*~*~*~*


	5. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is the worst on car trips; and Castiel is closing in, unaware that someone is watching him...

He didn’t like this—not one bit. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they sat at a red light. Sam was shifting in his seat and staring out the window, lost in thought. Dean didn’t want to know what was going through his brother’s mind. The obnoxious little rich boy was sitting in the direct center of the backseat, dark cap pulled over his eyes. Unfortunately, the fact that he couldn’t see did nothing to shut his mouth. Gabriel wouldn’t stop babbling and Dean was coiled tighter than a piano wire. 

“Are we almost there?” Gabriel repeated for what seemed like the fiftieth time. 

The light turned green and Dean took the opportunity to floor it and ignore the incessant whining from behind him. 

“I’m hungry.”

Next to him, Sam angled himself to look back at their ‘hostage.’ “We can get you something when we get to Crowley.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

“You’ll have to wait,” Dean finally snapped. 

There was a blessed thirty seconds of silence before Gabriel huffed, scratching around the cap pulled over his eyes. “This hat is itchy.”

He could see Sam trying to bite back a smile as Gabriel proceeded to complain about the effect of wool on his delicate skin. “I don’t care, keep it on,” Dean said. 

Before he could move, Gabriel had ripped the hat off of his head, announcing that he’d been wearing it long enough. Dean started to yell at him, but Sam jumped in, pointing out that they were almost outside of town and that Gabriel wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where they had been holed up. He could feel a migraine coming on. Maybe from the minuscule amount of booze in his system, but he doubted it. Most likely it was the annoying little blonde in the back who his brother was making unsubtle goo-goo eyes towards. It was beyond sickening. Sammy was such a teenage girl when he was attracted to someone. And in this instance, it was beyond dangerous. 

“So where are we going? You’re sure we can’t just swing by a drive-through? I haven’t eaten since this morning and I have low blood sugar,” Gabriel babbled incessantly. “I could pass out on you and how would you explain that if someone saw or you got pulled over or—“

“You know,” Dean glared into the rear view mirror. “I stole a car once that had one of those yappy little dogs wearing a sweater in the backseat—he made less noise than you do, Novak.”

“Rude,” Gabriel flopped back against the seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “So how exactly do you know my baby bro?”

His eyes slid to his brother’s as they silently communicated what to say to the question. He knew that eventually they’d have to come clean, but Dean preferred if they waited for the big reveal when they had Crowley to back their story along with countless examples of what Chuck Novak was up to. He was worried that if they spilled, the obnoxious ball of energy in the back seat might tuck and roll out onto the highway in an attempt to get away. Honestly, Dean would be happy to be rid of him—but Sam was right, they needed him. Crowley asked to see Novak, so that meant that Novak was going to tag along; with or without cooperation. 

“I met him through a business associate,” Sam said finally. “He joined us a few times for drinks and contract negotiations on behalf of your father and older brother when they couldn’t make it.”

Both Winchesters almost missed the whispered, “Damn.”

“What?” Dean cut his eyes and glared at Gabriel through the mirror. 

“Nothing,” Gabriel replied. 

Next to him, Sam turned and looked back at middle Novak. “Gabe.” 

The use of a nickname made Dean clench his jaw. He didn’t need Sammy getting attached to someone like Gabriel Freaking Novak. He wanted to interrupt but he knew that Sam had a shot at cracking the other man. More than Dean did, that was for sure. He and Novak were like ammonia and bleach—fucking toxic.

“Gabe,” Sam said again. “I told you—we aren’t the bad guys here. You can trust us. Dean and I aren’t going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Gabriel huffed. 

Even out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see his little brother giving pint-sized the sappiest look. Ew. He was going to gag.

“I’m not completely ignorant about my family, you know,” Gabriel said. “I’m actually the ‘Executive Advisor to the Director of Social Advancement.’” He chuckled at the confused looks he received from the Winchesters before Dean refocused on the road. “It’s bullshit corporate speak for ‘I taught my dad how to use Instagram one time.’” Gabriel sounded sad. “I messed up when I was sent to Grace as an intern. Found some things I shouldn’t have, and caused a lot of problems for my father and his ‘business partners.’ Anyway,” Gabriel said. “I have a stupid title so my father doesn’t have to tell everyone what a disaster I am, and I pull in what amounts to an allowance.”

“Okay,” Sam seemed just as lost as Dean did at the moment. 

“The point is,” Gabe said. “I know the kinds of people that my father works with. And if you two are in business with any of his associates, then I’m pretty sure I know what kind of people  _ you _ are as well.”

“Well you’d be wrong,” Dean spat. He wasn’t about to be lumped in with the same trash as Chuck and Lucifer Novak. 

“Like I said, it’s not what you think,” Sam was firm. “Once we get to our boss he can explain.”

Gabriel was quiet in the back, and something about it set Dean’s teeth on edge. “Fine, kiddo. I’ll trust  _ you _ —for now.” Dean didn’t miss the emphasis that Gabriel put on only trusting the younger Winchester. Whatever. Once they got to Crowley, they could dump the poor little rich boy with their boss and hopefully never see him again. 

There was a full minute of silence as Sam turned back around in his seat and Gabriel stared blankly out of the window. When he finally spoke again, Dean could hear the grinding of his own teeth. “So,” Gabe irritatingly drew the word out. “Are we there yet?”

“For fuck’s sake, no!” Dean snapped. 

“You said you’d feed me,” Gabriel reminded them. As if on cue his stomach rumbled and Dean knew that Sam was going to take Novak’s side. 

Sure enough, when he glanced at his brother, Sam was shooting him that damn puppy dog look that got him everything. “Come on, Dean,” he cajoled. “It will be another few hours before we get there. I know I could use something too.”

“A few hours?” Gabriel moaned dramatically. “Come on, Deanie—I’m begging you! I’m not going to last another five minutes! I think I’m dying here!”

“You aren’t dying,” Sam chided fondly. The sappy, indulgent look he was giving to Gabriel was beyond sickening.

“I might be,” Gabe insisted. “Think about it? Pancakes,” he said. “A milkshake? Big basket of greasy fries?”

“A Cobb salad with blue cheese,” Sam added. 

“That’s no way to treat your body, kiddo,” Gabriel snorted. “Live a little.”

“Fine,” Sam teased. “Egg white omelet  _ with _ bacon. That’s the best I can do.”

Now Dean’s stomach was fucking rumbling and his left eye was twitching every time Gabe opened his mouth. A list of delicious sounding, unhealthy food was being rattled off from the back of the Impala and Dean knew that he was going to break. Once Gabriel hit on the magic word of ‘pie,’ Dean gave in. “Okay fine,” Dean said in frustration. “Will you shut your damn mouth for five minutes if we feed you?”

“Yes,” Gabriel responded. There was a beat. “Maybe. I can’t promise anything.”

“It’s better than nothing, Dean,” Sam pointed out with a grin. 

“This isn’t funny Samantha.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dean-o,” Gabriel said. “Pissing you off has been the best part of my week.”

Next to him, Sam snorted. Dean glowered and kept his eyes on the road. There would be a diner or drive-through sooner or later. He just had to keep from shooting Gabriel in the kneecap until then. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

There were at least four exits out of the dilapidated bar called The Roadhouse, though one of the fire exits was chained shut and Castiel was only assuming that there was a staff door in the kitchen. The woman who ran the place must have had an in with the fire marshall, because the amount of broken codes that Cas counted in a single glance was astounding. This was only his third visit to the dive bar near the warehouse art district, and he had no immediate plans to return.

He assessed the other patrons swiftly as he swept his trench coat behind him and took a seat at the bar. A young blonde, who, at first glance, looked like a very picture of wholesome girl-next-door nodded to him as she finished pouring a drink. Castiel remembered her from the night he’d first met Sam Wesson here. Her freshly scrubbed face gave off one vibe, while her eyes showed a darkness that Cas was unaccustomed to in one so young. 

Patiently waiting, he eyed a few of the other people milling about nearby. No one in particular seemed to jump out at him, which was probably a blessing. The bartender approached him and casually tossed a thin, white napkin onto the scarred wooden counter. “What can I get’cha?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

Castiel wasn’t much of a drinker at the best of times. He wanted to order water, simply because he was working, but Cas knew that would be a mistake. He tried to school his features as he said, “Scotch. Neat. Two fingers, please.” 

He wasn’t the biggest fan of the drink, but his eldest brother, Lucifer swore by it. There was no way he could order Gabriel’s usual—champagne would be a worse choice than water in this establishment. The girl nodded and wandered off to fill his order. 

When she returned and slapped the plain tumbler down in front of him, he tossed a few bills her way. “Are you the usual bartender here during the evenings?” He finally said when she came back with his change. 

“Yup,” she nodded. “Seven days a week.”

“No days off?”

“Days off aren’t really a thing when you’re in the family business,” she said. “My mom owns this place.”

Cas acknowledged the information with a dip of his head. “I remember you,” he said. “I was here a bit ago with some coworkers.”

“I know,” she smirked. “Gordon’s a regular. And Sam has been in a lot since moving into the neighborhood.”

“He lives here?” Cas tried to remain casual. “I wasn’t aware of that. I only know him through work and Gordon was the one who suggested getting drinks here.”

The girl seemed uncaring as she responded. “Yeah, he rented out one of the warehouses nearby. Comes with some sort of loft. He and his friend do custom auto work or some shit. I’m not totally sure.”

Taking the opening, Cas went with it. “Yes. That’s what we had been discussing. I was hoping to hire them to do some engine rebuilds on a Cobra that I recently acquired.”

“You’ll want to ask for Dean then,” she said. “He does the work, Sam handles the cash. At least that’s what I understand. Good luck though,” her nose wrinkled in a look of disgust. “The man is rude beyond measure and doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.”

He could sense the bitterness in her tone—she wasn’t hiding it. If he had to guess, Castiel would say that this ‘Dean’ has spurned the young lady’s advances. “His loss,” Cas replied in his smooth baritone. He was shit at flirting, he knew that. But the bartender was opening up and he needed the information. He’d just have to do his best and hope he didn’t look like a complete assbutt. “I’m sure that you have no dearth of eligible suitors, Miss…?”

“Jo,” she said, her eyebrow raised. “No ‘Miss’ about it. Just Jo.”

“Jo,” Cas smiled. He probably looked deranged. Charlie and his college girlfriend, Meg, always made fun of him, saying he looked like he was a serial killer when he tried to be charming. He’d worked on it some since then, but in all honesty, he couldn’t really be bothered. “Your name means ‘sweetheart’ in Scottish and has also been used to refer to a ‘good friend’ in some forms of poetry.”

Now she actually  _ was _ looking at him like he was a serial killer. Fantastic. “Right,” her voice wary. “Short for Joanna. But don’t call me that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas was solemn. “Jo? You wouldn’t happen to know which loft belongs to Sam Wesson and this Dean character, would you?”

Her eyes were piercing as she regarded him. After some sort of internal deliberation, Jo spun on her heel and walked over toward the ancient cash register at the end of the bar. She grabbed a crinkled order pad and returned. “What have I got to lose, right?” She smiled at him as she began to scribble on the paper. “If you bring him a lot of business then maybe you can put in a good word for me,” Jo winked. “Tell Dean he doesn’t know what he’s missing. If no one is there, Dean drives an old Chevy Impala. Black. Pretty hard to miss.”

Ripping off the paper, she handed it over to Castiel with a devilish grin. “And, um,” Cas blinked as he read the words in front of him. “If he doesn’t receive your invitation well?”

Jo leaned on the bar, showcasing her low cut tank top. She looked beyond confident as she openly leered at Castiel. “You’re pretty cute too,” she said. “If Dean doesn’t want to go for a ride, then you’re welcome to meet me yourself.” The wink was unmistakable as she flounced away to help another customer. 

For a moment, Castiel sat in utter stillness, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the young woman had so blatantly thrown herself at him. He supposed that he should be offended that she only considered him a runner up to Wesson’s business associate—but he was more concerned about the fact that she didn’t seem to care that they were strangers. 

He was reminded of Meg’s last birthday before they split up. The one when he’d made her roommate sob while he turned her drunken advances down, and reassured her that her somewhat promiscuous ways said more about her upbringing than her character. Meg had inhaled her rum and coke through her nose and told him that he was hopeless when it came to women. Cas couldn’t really disagree. He wondered what kind of childhood Jo had endured. Not that it was any of his business. 

The address that was scrawled across the paper was only a few blocks away. He could be there in less than ten minutes if he walked. However, he wasn’t about to leave his car here in case something went awry. Without a backward glance, Castiel tossed a few wrinkled bills onto the scarred counter before heading outside into the crisp evening air. He resolutely ignored the prickle on the back of his neck that someone was watching him. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by paranoia at this stage in the game. 

The address Jo had provided was a squat, cinder block warehouse, only two stories tall. It was dwarfed by the factories and taller industrial buildings around it—easily blending into the darkness of the night. Castiel circled the area three times, trying to keep a natural pace so as not to draw attention before he parked around the corner. 

He did his level best to remain unseen as he moved quickly under the street lamps toward the building. On the second pass of his drive, he’d noticed a small side entrance that was out of the reach of the lights. Castiel slipped effortlessly into shadow and went to work. He didn’t have any time to waste, so he went straight for the bump key that he always carried. Normally, Cas despised the artless form of breaking and entering, but he had a small window before he feared the trail would go cold. He was inside in a matter of moments, the door closing softly behind him.

It was obvious that the warehouse was empty, but Castiel refused to let his guard down. He unholstered his weapon and moved silently through the space. There were flickering overhead lights showing that someone had most likely left in a hurry. The most damning evidence was Gabriel’s custom car, parked cheerily in the center of the building, the trunk wide open and thankfully empty. A quick reconnaissance of the space showed that Gabriel’s car was almost eerily spotless. He also discovered a bathroom littered with broken glass and random cleaning supplies. Cas was relieved that he didn’t notice any blood amongst the pieces of shattered mirror.

He hit the jackpot when he climbed the loft and found a small, cramped, dirty office. There were cardboard boxes of haphazard files, a trash can filled with empty beer bottles, and a large map of both the city and the world with seemingly random pins stuck into the paper. Castiel stared at the maps, his head tilted to one side as he took in the oddity. His eyes narrowed when he saw the small photographs tacked up nearby. Candid shots of not only himself, but of his father, brother, and a few trusted employees, such as Arthur Ketch. He was almost a little impressed that someone had managed to obtain a photo of his father’s bodyguard. Ketch was notoriously private and almost impossible to track down. In a business that delighted in disappearing, Ketch was a ghost.

Something was very wrong with all of this. Castiel had a vague suspicion about what was going on, he’d been wary of Wesson since the day that Gordon had introduced them. However, his father and Lucifer had dismissed his concerns. If Castiel had been one to gloat and crow, “I told you so,” he would have been ecstatic. Instead, he was beyond concerned. How had Gabriel become embroiled in whatever the fuck was happening? Their father took great pains to keep Gabriel far away from Grace after his disastrous internship. All Cas knew was that Gabe had messed up some of the client files and Chuck had been livid. He wasn’t privy to any more information than that. But Gabriel wasn’t supposed to be a player in their family business. He was supposed to be on the outside; collecting his ‘paycheck’ and keeping his head down. Not that Gabriel had ever been good at remaining anonymous.

“Gabriel, what have you done?” Cas murmured.

It was now even more imperative that he track down his brother as quickly as possible. He needed to get Gabriel somewhere safe. Somewhere  _ away  _ from the taint of the name ‘Novak.’ Where maybe the two of them could figure out their next step--together. Castiel wasn’t too proud to admit that despite Gabe’s rather lackadaisical approach to life, he missed his older brother. He and Gabriel had always been close, despite their completely opposite personalities. Castiel was starting to put the pieces together and he was beginning to wonder if maybe it was time to make a change. The most frustrating thing now was that Sam Wesson and his associate Dean had most likely fled--and Cas was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be returning any time soon. He had to find them, and his brother, before Chuck lost his patience and pulled Cas from the hunt. If Chuck Novak sent someone else, then all of them would be in a world of danger. Castiel didn’t want to think of the consequences of failing. Finding Gabriel and figuring out what to do next, was of the utmost importance.

Castiel took a step backward, away from the wall, his eyes giving the room one final scan. At the last moment, his gaze landed on something sticking out of the seat cushions on the torn, ratty sofa. Something told him that it was important. It had been hidden, but not very carefully. As Castiel reached and closed his fingers around it, he almost heard Arthur Ketch’s voice saying, “Shoddy and sloppy,” and he shook his head in agreement. 

It turned out to be an old photograph in a dusty frame. There were three men in flannel standing near a rather large body of water. Rocks littered the shoreline and two of them were holding fishing poles. The older man in the center was beared and looked incredibly angry, but his eyes were crinkled with laugh lines, betraying that the gruffness was most likely a ruse. The one on the left was slightly taller, close cropped hair and sparkling green eyes. Castiel was ashamed to admit that he might have stared at the man for a moment too long. There was something captivating about the cocky smirk, and the challenge being issued on the man’s face. On the right, was an incredibly tall man, who was smiling at the camera, with his long brown hair covered by a knit cap. There was no mistaking that it was Samuel Wesson.

Castiel felt his nostrils flare as he stared at the picture. He knew that it meant something, no one would hang on to a keepsake like this unless there was a good reason. In his training with Ketch, Cas also knew that the likelihood of both of the other men being deceased was high. People in their line of work didn’t keep damning evidence that could lead to a loved one meeting a gruesome end. It was a risk that most were unwilling to take. He wondered who these men were to Wesson.

Whoever had taken the photo hadn’t centered the fishermen very well. They were squashed into the side of the frame and just over Wesson’s shoulder a hand painted wooden sign read ‘Angel’s Breath.’ Castiel grinned ferally. He knew the place. It was a small town about a twelve hour drive north from the city. Angel’s Breath Lake was some of the best walleye fishing around. It drew sportsmen, as well as the wealthy, due to the picturesque forests, almost unnervingly clear waters, and the fact that the lake was large enough to support full-sized yachts and trawlers. The depth at the center had never been fully confirmed and local legends say that it went straight to the center of the earth, hiding unknown secrets. 

Chuck had sent the boys there one summer with a small security detail. They’d spent their days on the water and trashing the three story log home that Chuck had purchased solely for them to use just the once. He’d told them that they needed to spend time in nature like other young boys their age, but in actuality, he’d been brokering a deal with a man overseas who was now on multiple country’s Most Wanted Lists, and wanted the kids out of his way.

Lucifer had spent the summer chasing anyone willing to bend over for him, while Gabriel had spent most of the time in a haze of party drugs and pouting about being sent away from home; but Castiel had been only ten and fascinated with anything supernatural. He’d researched the area before they’d arrived and immediately set about the town, asking locals anything they knew about the legends of lake monsters, or humanoids who lived in cave systems under the water. 

He’d gotten to know the area rather well, and even stayed in contact with a few of the town’s citizens through his guilty pleasure of online message boards about bigfoot and the like. It wouldn’t be too difficult to track some of them down and ask if they knew Wesson’s companions. It was the best lead he had for now--especially since Charlie had pleaded to go radio silent until further notice. 

Cas removed the picture from the frame, tucking it into an inside pocket of his trench coat as he wished for his friend to call him back. He could use her help to trace down the Impala that Jo had mentioned. A mint condition, black, muscle car registered to a ‘Dean,’ would be child’s play for Charlie. For now, he was going to get on the road and head toward Angel’s Breath, praying to any god that would listen that he would find his brother.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Arthur Ketch was almost disappointed at how easy it was to tail Castiel. He’d thought that he had trained the stoic young security expert better. Then again, he  _ had  _ taught Cas almost everything that he knew. It was always easier to deal with a former protégé than someone who you were following cold. When Castiel stood up and left the bar, Ketch waited near the restrooms until his target was gone. He then made his way toward his new prey.

The blonde bartender was feisty, but just as all women seemed to, she soon fell victim to his British accent and charming words. It wasn’t long before he also had the address she had passed on to Castiel, claiming that he was late meeting his old friend and that his cell phone was dead. She directed him in Cas’ direction and also gave a rather forward offer of a blowjob in the bar’s employee office. He’d admit that he considered it, but Ketch was nothing if not a workaholic. A promiscuous blonde on her knees for him was a dime a dozen.

The address was close, and he decided to walk. If he ended up having to cover his tracks--or anyone else’s--it would be prudent to leave on foot. He scoped out the warehouse from the safety of an alley across the street. It was a corner building, dimly lit, due to a few of the street lamps being busted out. Ketch leaned against the rough brick wall--careful not to wrinkle his immaculate designer suit--crossed his arms, and waited. It wasn’t long before Castiel Novak slipped out of the building, glanced around the seemingly empty streets, and hurried off into the night.

Ketch grinned. He knew that look well, Castiel had found something. Now the only question was what? Seven deep breaths later, and Ketch pushed himself off of the alley wall and moved with purpose toward the warehouse. The lock turned easily and he knew that Cas had damaged the pins while bumping. It wasn’t unsurprising considering the low quality of the door and lock itself. What did cause him to raise an eyebrow was the fact that Castiel had been sloppy enough to leave a trace of himself at all. He’d had such high hopes for the youngest son of his employer. It was almost a shame.

A quick run through showed that the only object of interest was the blazing yellow BMW that Ketch recognized as Gabriel’s in the center of the room. Other than that, if Castiel had discovered anything interesting in the main area, he’d taken it away with him. And just like his former protege, Ketch found the motherlode when he climbed up to the office. Unlike Cas, however, the British ‘bodyguard,’ wasn’t working from a place of ignorance. He knew  _ exactly  _ what the maps, pictures, and files meant. The only people who could possibly get this close to God were Federal Agents--and top notch ones, too. The single candid shot of his own face made him spit expletives for over a minute. This was beyond unfavorable and slipping into catastrophic. Ketch grit his teeth as his eyes narrowed in focus on a single photo surrounded by red circles--Detective Gordon Walker.

The crooked man of the law had been on Novak's payroll for almost six years. He’d saved them from a lot of local trouble in the past, and proved himself loyal. Apparently, even an academy front-runner with a reputation for knowing the mind of criminals wasn’t smart enough to realize when he was being played. Obviously whoever was on to them had managed to weasel their way in through Walker, of all bloody people!

Arthur Ketch might be the best at cleanup in the business, his talent for making problems, ‘go away,’ legendary--but he wasn’t keen on using his skills simply because some incompetant Dibble trying to climb the crime ladder had botched things. Ketch had always disapproved of Walker’s disregard for protocol, trying to bring in fresh blood without thoroughly vetting them. It seemed that his subpar observation skills had finally caught up to them all. Ketch shook his head in silent fury, and began to plan on how and where to dispose of Walker’s corpse if God deemed it necessary.

Forcing himself to remain as cool and detached as possible, Ketch began to root around the sparse office until he found what he was seeking. In the bottom of the rusted file cabinet were several half full bottles of liquor; mostly whiskey, but also a bottle of tequila, and all of a rather high proof. Thank fuck, that most feds were functioning alcoholics. The threadbare curtains over the barred window were ripped down and torn into strips. Ketch stuffed the rags into the various bottles, making sure that they were soaked in the available alcohol. 

It took two trips to get the makeshift molotovs down to the main area of the warehouse. Once he was clear, he lit the first with his lucky lighter, and lobbed it up into the empty office. He’d poured some of the hundred proof swill all over the maps and photos to make double damn sure they were destroyed. After the flames were dancing merrily above him, Ketch methodically moved through the main level, tossing a few of the flaming bottles into the toilet, the stacked boxes in the corner, as well as the Novak brat’s ridiculous automobile. Anything tying God, Lucifer, and especially himself, to this rat-trap, was going to end up in cinders.

As he backed out of the door, he threw the last bottle, grinning as the glass smashed into pieces on the floor, the flames licking along the ground as it consumed any speck of alcohol it could touch. Ketch allowed a moment to admire his work, the walls of the warehouse burning, the small office already obliterated in flame and ash. Stepping onto the street, he let the door slam behind him and he walked calmly back across the street, resuming his former position in the dark alley. He wanted to make sure that the evidence went up in smoke, as it were. And he felt relatively disguised here. He could already see smoke beginning to flood out of the windows and the ventilation system on the roof. 

He knew that he must check in with God as soon as he was able, but Ketch didn’t relish  _ that _ conversation. Much easier to catch Walker off guard and give the detective a piece of his mind. Make sure the man used his influence to smooth over any loose ends that the fire may have missed. Ketch selected one of his burner phones from his pocket and dialed the number from memory. Less than three rings before he heard Gordon answer with a clipped, “Walker. What do you want?”

“I’m rather exhausted cleaning up your messes, Walker,” Ketch’s voice was silky and condescending. “I shall have to report this to God. I’m sure that you understand.”

He could feel the waves of white hot rage through the phone. Gordon Walker was a hot head at the best of times, but provoking him was never an excellent idea. Lucky for him, Ketch has no such qualms about poking the beast.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m speaking of a warehouse downtown containing a missing archangel’s car, and an evidence wall with all of our faces on it that is currently burning to the ground.”

There was a beat before Gordon whispered. “You think someone is on to us?”

“I don’t think,” Ketch replied. “I know. Government agents from the look of it.”

Another pause before Gordon asked, “Where is this warehouse?”

“The arts district, along the riverwalk.”

“Fuck.”

“I take it you have an inkling who is hunting us?” Ketch stated.

“I have an associate who works out of a place down there,” Gordon said. “Man named Sam Wesson. I’ve been meeting with him for months, trying to get him an audience with God. It could be him.”

“I’m certain it is,” Ketch said. “I have reason to believe that whoever infiltrated us, has done so through  _ you _ , Detective.” He made sure to put all of his irritation behind his accented sneer of Walker’s title. “As I said, I’m cleaning up your mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” Gordon hissed. “You don’t know what Wesson was doing. It could be nothing.”

“Coincidence is a funny thing,” Arthur purred, his fingers lightly grazing the grip of his favorite Walther PPK. “You see, it doesn’t actually exist. If something seems connected or  _ off _ —it usually is. I don’t allow my judgement to be clouded by silly naive notions that things will be fine in the end. It’s one of the reasons that I’m still alive. You would do well to practice such professionalism,” Ketch said. “Perhaps it would prevent such a grievous oversight.”

He could hear Walker suck in his breath. “Stay where you are and do your job,” he instructed. “Either myself, Lucifer or God himself will be in touch.” He paused, and allowed the weight of what he was about to say sink into the corrupt detective’s mind. “Try not to bloody botch anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'Dibble’ is apparently old-timey derogatory slang for a cop/police officer in England. Ketch just seems the type to be all pretentious and hipstery and use outdated slang.


	6. Out of Darkness, Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrickson is getting suspicious, while Sam and Dean panic and Gabriel makes a desperate play for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Sexual Abuse and Lying about Sexual Abuse.
> 
> At the end of this chapter, Gabriel implies to Chuck that he has been sexually abused by Sam and Dean. He does this out of pure panic, thinking that he is going to die. I do not condone this in any way. Part of the reason that this scene goes the way it does, is because it happens in the film as well. When the kidnapper asks the main girl for a favor to call her father and say she wasn't really kidnapped, she pulls the exact same stunt (only she wasn't in fear of her life) Either way. It happens. You can absolutely skip the last section in Gabriel's POV if you do not want to read it. I totally understand. It doesn't really have anything to do with the overall story arc.

Detective Victor Henrickson loved his job. He loved the puzzle. He loved the challenge. He especially liked to help people, do his part to give back to society. What Henrickson  _ didn’t  _ enjoy though, was being lied to. And he was convinced that Chuck Novak had done nothing but elude and evade what was actually happening for the entire time they had been acquainted. 

At first, it seemed to be a perfectly straightforward kidnapping. Young man from an obscenely wealthy family grabbed and held for an equally obscene amount of cash. At least, obscene for a regular person. But for a man such as God? A million was pocket change. The first thing that pinged on Henrickson’s radar was the fact that the kidnappers were asking for next to nothing in the vastness of Chuck Novak’s hypothetical pocket book.

Something wasn’t right. 

Henrickson had been a detective for a long time, long enough to know how to read the signs. At this point, he knew that something was fishy and he was just hoping to hold on long enough to solve the case—before the FBI  _ did _ catch wind of all this drama. He knew that the case should be federal simply because of the people involved, but Henrickson didn’t have a great history with the FBI. Two years at Quantico had almost killed him. He’d left for the less glamorous position at a regular police force and found that it suited him much better. Politics and internal competition made more problems than it fixed. He was more than happy to leave the Bureau behind him.

His partner, Detective Gordon Walker sidled up to him with a hot coffee and handed it off saying, “How much worse can this shitshow get?” 

Henrickson’s laugh was mirthless. “Don’t put that shit out into the universe.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Both men took a bracing gulp of their beverage. Gordon looked at his watch and swore under his breath.

“Late for something?” Victor asked, his eyebrow raised. 

Waving his hand as though he didn’t care, Gordon said, “No.” He was a man of few words, but something was making Henrickson’s hair stand on end. Gordon looked up, his face blank. “What are we going to do about losing all that money?”

The fact that the ransom was now buried in the silt at the bottom of the river was  _ not  _ something Victor wanted to deal with. Not now. Not today. “Let the Chief deal with that circus. We’re here to get the Novak kid back.”

“Kid?” Gordon scoffed. “He’s a thirty year old with no life skills who lives on daddy’s money.”

Narrowing his eyes, Victor looked over at his partner. “He’s still a victim.” What he didn’t say though, was how unsure he actually was that Gabriel Novak had even been legitimately kidnapped. 

“A million dollars,” Gordon said after a few moments. “That’s a lot of green,” his eyes were alight with greed. Victor didn’t blame him too much. Gordon hadn’t had the best time of it, and always seemed to be scraping by. Even he, who was meticulous with his paycheck, was slightly enthralled by the idea of that much money. 

Shrugging, Victor finally said what had been running through his brain since he’d first arrived at the Novak compound, the day Gabriel had gone missing. “A million dollars to a man like Chuck Novak? Nothing.”

Gordon seemed to contemplate the words. “You know Novak?”

“Don’t need to,” Henrickson replied. Anyone who makes that much money in their lifetime isn’t playing by the rules. It’s immoral for one person to control that amount of resources.”

“I don’t know,” Gordon’s smile was wicked. “I think the dude’s just one lucky SOB. Who wouldn’t want to have that kind of security.”

“Not the way he does it,” Henrickson was grave. “I’m sure he’s being watched by all kinds of three letter agencies. I’m just glad that none of them seem to be sniffing around now. The last thing we need is for this to go public and the Feds to come down on us.”

“No shit,” Gordon sipped his coffee. “Fucking Feds are a pain in my ass.” He sounded more irritated with the idea of the FBI than usual. 

“Your ass?” Henrickson managed a short chuckle. “I’m the one who’d have to actually talk to them.”

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks,” Gordon smirked. 

The two detectives touched the rims of their coffee cups together and smiled in solidarity. Just as Victor was about to speak, one of the department’s assigned officers came bustling up to the pair, his eyes a bit wild. “Officer Fitzgerald?” Henrickson asked. “Something the matter?”

“Dispatch just called,” the young cop’s eyes darted between the two superiors. “There’s a warehouse on fire on the east side, right in our target area. Thought you might want to check it out. Firefighters said there’s a car inside that matches the Novak kid’s Beemer.”

Without a word, Detective Henrickson and Walker bolted for their rusted vehicle to head out. They might have finally caught a break. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam allowed Gabriel to bitch about the first two drive thru restaurants that Dean picked. The first had something to do with the state of the fries (“not fit for seagulls Sammich”). While the second didn’t serve all-day breakfast which apparently meant that it was run by people with no joy who didn’t deserve their money. Sam didn’t really care what Gabe’s reasons were; it was pretty funny to watch the vein on Dean’s forehead pulse as he tried not to scream at their hostage. 

When Dean pulled into the lot for a roadside diner, Sam headed Gabriel off before the short blonde could open his mouth. “They have breakfast and milk shakes.” He threw in a pleading look that made Gabriel squint at him for a moment before huffing.

“Fine,” Gabe said. “It’ll do.”

“Damn right, it’ll do,” Dean grumbled as he turned off the car and practically jumped out, shutting the door behind him firmly. Dean would  _ never _ slam Baby’s door, but Sam knew that his brother had held his temper back simply for the well-being of his precious Impala. 

“Can you at least try to get along with him?” Sam asked, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

Behind him, Gabriel shrugged and made a humming sound. “I have no incentive, kiddo,” Gabe replied. “ _ You _ , I want to get into bed. Dean-o? He’s just amusing. I have to do what I can in a shit situation like this.”

“For me?” Sam resorted to begging, just a little. 

They moved to exit the vehicle with Gabriel contorting his face as though he was pretending to consider Sam’s request. “Okay,” he finally said.

“Really?” Sam smiled as both of them stood on the pavement, Dean glowering at them over the hood. “That’s great.”

“But you’ll owe me,” Gabe winked at him and clicked his tongue suggestively before moving around Sam to walk into the diner with Dean. 

Shaking his head fondly, Sam found that he really didn’t care  _ what  _ he’d end up ‘owing’ Gabriel. Nothing involving the attractive trust fund brat could be too painful, after all. Mostly because Sam would  _ love  _ a chance to jump into Gabe’s bed—and that was definitely what the other man was implying. 

He still managed to get the last word, flirtatiously saying, “Within reason, Novak,” as they entered the diner. 

Sam took up the rear, following Dean as he stomped through the retro establishment toward an empty booth near the back. Dean slid into one side, angled so he could look out the window and keep an eye on Baby. He was smack dab in the middle of the sparkling red vinyl bench, and Sam knew that Dean had  _ no  _ intention of moving. 

Surprisingly, Gabriel made no comments as he sunk down on the other side of the table and scooted up next to the large window. In an attempt to keep up appearances with his brother, Sam grumbled a bit as he sat down next to Gabe. Their thighs were pressed together and something about it made Sam’s heart flutter uncontrollably. Sharing a booth with Gabriel Novak was as far from hardship that Sam could imagine. 

A harried looking man in a stained, black chef’s toque hurried around the long counter and slapped some faded menus in front of them without a word. All three of them immediately busied themselves with the choices. Breaking the relative silence of their booth, Gabriel’s stomach suddenly let out a small rumble, which made the shorter man mutter something unintelligible in response. Sam was glad that he’d managed to convince Dean to stop somewhere. Not only for their sanity by keeping Gabe happy, but also because Sam could feel the beginnings of hunger pangs himself. 

He could feel every shift in Gabe’s body where their legs touched, and Sam had to force himself to concentrate on the menu and not the fact that his entire body seemed to be singing with electricity. 

Next to him, Gabriel hummed in thought. “Should I order waffles or pancakes?” He mused. “Pancakes, more like  _ mancakes _ ,” he elbowed Sam in the ribs and waggled his eyebrows. “Or maybe  _ Sam _ cakes.” Sam could feel his face heat in a blush, while across the table, Dean groaned. “I’d like to drizzle some syrup on  _ you _ , kiddo.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean hissed, glaring at Gabe. “I  _ will _ shoot you. Right here, right now.”

“No you won’t,” Gabe smiled. 

“He might,” Sam said, giving Gabe a look. 

Something in his expression must have resonated with Gabriel because he shrugged and went back to quietly perusing his menu. There were a few moments of silence before Gabe bounced in his seat, almost knocking over the salt shaker as he laughed. “Oh that’s it—it’ll hit the spot.” 

He turned and showed the menu to Sam, pointing to the Sinfully Good Specials. Right at the top was ‘Bananas Foster French Toast.’ The description alone had Sam worried about his cholesterol. “That’s literally about three thousand calories of diabetes on a plate,” Sam said in horror.

“I know,” Gabriel said happily. “It’s going to be delicious.”

Scanning the menu, Dean’s eyes fell on the same dish. “Caramelized banana slices and a half a cup of powdered sugar,” Dean read aloud. “That actually sounds pretty badass.”

“You’re both going to die,” Sam said. “No, wait,” he amended. “You’re both going to gain two hundred pounds and  _ then  _ die.”

“Toss in  _ you  _ without your panties, and I’d die happy, kiddo,” Gabriel quipped. “I’m getting it.”

“You only live once,” Dean said, finally agreeing with Gabe on something. Of course it was junk food. 

Gabriel let out a sharp laugh and pointed a wiggling finger at Dean. “I’m beginning to like you,” he said with a grin. 

“I still can’t stand  _ you _ ,” Dean replied back, smiling. 

Sam just shook his head in confusion and began to check out the menu again. There were a lot of veggie options for the ‘Build Your Own Omelet’ that he was planning to order. It wasn’t long before a slender brunette, barely out of her teens, wearing an old fashioned mustard yellow dress uniform appeared at their table. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes until she looked at Dean. Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised. He knew damn well that he was just as attractive as his brother, but he tended to give off a more guarded air, unlike Dean’s perpetual flirting. His brother was the one who got hit on more often than not, and Sam was fine with that arrangement. Especially now that Gabriel Novak was squashed in the booth at his side. 

“I’m Eve, and I’ll be taking care of you boys tonight,” she said, taking her eyes over Dean’s chest. Sam rolled his eyes as his brother preened. Eve the waitress was very attractive, but also pushing the limit of legal based on the baby fat she still carried. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee, black,” Dean said. “And I’d love an order of the Bananas Foster French Toast and a side of bacon. Thanks, sweetheart.” He handed her the menu with a wink. 

Eve smirked before turning to Gabriel. “I’d like the same, only make my coffee a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream,” Gabriel asked. “Double bacon, and could I have some of those rainbow sprinkles on my French Toast?” He smiled innocently up at her, while all three of them gaped at the amount of sugar that Gabe was requesting.

“Sure thing,” Eve said after a beat. She looked at Sam expectantly. 

“Um,” Sam blinked. “I’d like an egg white omelet with mushrooms, peppers, spinach, carrots, and Swiss cheese. And a side of turkey bacon,” he said. 

“He wants regular bacon,” Dean spoke up.

“No, I don’t,” Sam replied.

“But Moose,” Gabriel poked at him. “You promised me you’d get bacon—and turkey bacon is  _ not  _ bacon.”

“Pipsqueak’s right,” Dean said. 

Since Eve was still patiently waiting, Sam groaned and gave in. “Fine, regular bacon.”

“Coming right up,” she smiled and sauntered off, shaking her hips enough that they all took a moment to watch. 

“So,” Gabriel said, turning back to Sam. “Is there going to be a bed at this secret hideout you’re dragging me to?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He’d turned his gaze from their waitress back to his car out in the lot. He seemed to realize what Gabe was getting at and glared at him. “No funny business though, we’re all sharing. I don’t want to hear or see anything. And besides, Sammy can do a hell of a lot better than  _ you _ , Novak.”

“Dean,” Sam snapped in irritation. 

“No arguments here,” Gabriel’s voice was like syrup as he placated the elder Winchester. Sam was ready to tell Dean to mind his own business when he felt a strong hand grip his thigh, much too high up to be entirely innocent. “You’re way out of my league, kiddo,” Gabe winked. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while we’re all stuck together.”

“No fun,” Dean reiterated. “Don’t touch my brother.”

Gabriel didn’t respond verbally—just a sly grin that made Dean look uneasy, and gave Sam a partial boner. Great. Just what he needed right now. Dean’s eyes were narrowed at both of them for a moment before Eve returned, plunking their meals down on the table. She left the bill next to Dean’s plate and even from where he sat, Sam could see a phone number scrawled across the bottom.

They dug into their food, Sam pointedly  _ not  _ looking at either Gabe or Dean’s plate. That many empty calories and carbs drizzled with sugar made him slightly nauseous. Silverware clanked as the three men ate, not bothering to talk to one another. Gabriel had removed his hand from Sam’s thigh when their meals arrived, and Sam didn’t want to admit that he felt upset at the loss of physical contact. 

Due to their lifestyle of undercover work and eating on the road, the Winchesters were finished first. As usual, Dean had cleared his plate to the point that it looked as though food had never touched it. Both brothers pushed their empty dishes away as they waited for Gabriel to finish eating. He was going at a much more sedate pace, as though he were savoring each bite. 

After a few moments, Dean grunted and began to stand up. “I’m gonna hit the head before we leave,” he said. “Make sure you’re finished by the time I get back,” he told Gabe. 

With his cheeks puffed out and full of food, Gabriel waved his fork uncaringly at Dean as the older Winchester turned to walk away. Sam was just about to reach for Gabe’s leg under the table now that his brother had gone, when he saw Dean by the counter frantically waving him over. He could see a slight panic beneath the surface of Dean’s gaze as he pointed at the old television mounted over the register.

Brow furrowed, Sam told Gabriel that he’d be right back before hurrying to his brother’s side. “What?” 

“Dude,” Dean pointed at the TV screen once more. “Look.”

The sound was turned up enough that they could hear the reporter blathering away as the camera showed a building on fire surrounded by emergency responders. It took a good few seconds for it to sink in for Sam that he was watching their warehouse burn to the ground on the local news. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“This is bad, Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t believe in coincidences, and I know that Crowley won’t either.”

“I know,” Sam agreed, his eyes glued to the screen. He forced himself to focus on the report, hoping they could get some answers. Maybe it was a faulty wire or something that wasn’t as insidious as arson, but Sam knew that Dean was right—this wasn’t a coincidence. 

“As of now, there is no official word on how the fire started, although the arson investigator is on the scene,” the reporter droned as the sight of the Winchester’s hideout blazed. “We  _ do  _ have confirmation though that one of the vehicles inside of the warehouse was a yellow BMW registered to Gabriel Novak, the middle son of billionaire, Chuck Novak. The Novak family has been unreachable for comment…”

Sam and Dean turned and fixed their eyes on Gabe who was still shoveling his sugar coated breakfast into his mouth. “What?” Gabriel shouted across the diner at them, a piece of banana falling from his lips.

“Sam,” Dean’s tone was deadly. “Get him out of here and into the car  _ now _ , before someone recognizes him.”

“On it,” Sam hurried back to their table and grabbed Gabriel’s surprisingly firm bicep. “We’ve gotta go,” he said. “Right now.”

“Hold your horses, kiddo,” Gabe said, spearing some toast with his fork and dragging it through caramel and powdered sugar. “I’m almost done.”

“This is not up for debate,” Sam leaned down and hissed in Gabe’s ear. “Someone burned down our warehouse. It’s all over the fucking news, and they’re reporting that your car was inside. We need to go. Now!”

He breathed a sigh of relief when Gabriel dropped his fork with a clatter and hopped out of the booth without complaint. They left the diner and got into the Impala as Dean paid for their meals with cash. When he finally joined them, they pulled back onto the highway in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts about what this new development could mean. 

They had been driving for under five minutes when one of their burner phones began to ring in the glove compartment. Sam flipped the door open and dug through the debris of phones, cords, and take out menus before locating the correct device. It was their emergency  _ emergency  _ line. The one that only Crowley and Uncle Bobby knew about. The brothers exchanged a worried glance as Sam accepted the call and placed it on speaker so they could both listen. 

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Crowley never used pleasantries—especially in situations such as this. Dean rattled off the highway and what direction they were headed before Sam could say anything. “Change of plans, boys,” their superior barked out. “I’m certain that you caught the news—I do hope you didn’t have anything you can’t replace at headquarters since it’s been  _ burned to the bloody ground _ !”

The Winchesters flinched at Crowley’s raised voice. Their boss attempted to remain collected for the most part, but on the occasions that his wicked temper slipped through, it was usually good practice to run for cover and hope for the best. “We saw,” Sam confirmed. “Do we know anything from the locals yet?”

“They’re not being very cooperative at the moment,” Crowley said. “Not surprising since they think that you two nightmares are kidnappers. And I’m not inclined to blow our cover just yet. I have a nasty feeling that Detective Walker isn’t the only mole we’re dealing with.”

“Detective Walker?” Gabriel spoke up for the first time. 

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Dean snapped. 

“Look,” Crowley said, his voice sounding scratchier than usual through the cheap phone. “We have bigger issues right now. You’re going to have to go with Plan D for now.”

“What happened to Plans B and C?” Sam asked with trepidation. 

“They got shot to shit the moment I saw Arthur Bloody Ketch on the news. He was in the crowd, watching the warehouse burn—and you know that bastard wasn’t just there to roast marshmallows.”

“You’re sure it was him?” Dean asked, his jaw tight. 

“Yeah, he never shows up on camera,” Sam added. “It took me almost a year to get one decent shot of him.”

There was a long pause before Crowley came back on the line. His voice was controlled and terrifying. “I know what the man looks like,” their supervisor said. “He stole everything from me—believe me, it was him.”

“Yes, sir,” both Winchesters said with contrition. Of course Crowley was sure. Arthur Ketch was personal—for all of them. Sam could feel bile rising in the back of his throat as he thought about the man who had ruined all three of their lives without a care. 

“Meet me at the cabin,” Crowley barked. “And don’t delay.”

“Angel’s Breath is at least another ten hours,” Sam said. “And we’ve been up all night.”

“Fine. Stop somewhere,” Crowley said. “Not a chain, and pay cash you morons.”

“You’re a moron, you moron,” Dean said lamely. Sam knew that it was just his brother and Crowley’s way of showing affection. To an outsider, they seemed to despise each other—in reality, Crowley was Dean’s most trusted friend after Sam himself. It was almost cute how they smiled at each other to show their love. 

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Sam said. 

“Moose, Squirrel,” Crowley said, his tone serious. “Watch you back.”

“You too,” Dean said before they signed off. 

Sam slumped in his seat, this was getting worse by the moment. All they wanted was for Chuck Novak and his lackeys to pay for what they had done. Not just to him, Dean, and Crowley—but to countless others through the years. Their carefully built case was falling down around them, and Sam couldn’t help but think that it was all his fault for picking the wrong car to steal that afternoon. What were the odds? Both of the Winchesters sat, lost in their own silent thoughts, unaware that in the backseat, Gabriel Novak had gone deathly pale. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

His fingernails were digging deep into the meat of his palm, enough to break the skin. Gabriel was doing his best to appear calm, when everything in him was screaming to launch himself from the car. The possibility of road rash was minuscule in comparison to the thought of his father’s personal ‘bodyguard’ looking for him. 

Gabriel didn’t know if Ketch was on his trail or that of Sam and Dean—and he didn’t care. All he knew was that if God had deployed his Hand, someone wasn’t going to live through this. 

The idea that his own father may have sent Ketch after  _ him _ made Gabriel feel as though he was choking. All of the air in his lungs was gone, his throat so dry that he wondered if he was dehydrated. Did Chuck actually want him dead? He knew that he wasn’t the best son, but they were  _ family _ ! 

In all his years of acting out, being the black sheep of the flock, Gabriel had never once considered that his father would try to have him killed. _ Try _ . Hilarious. If Ketch was on the way, Gabe knew that he was as good as dead. Cassie would have a chance, simply because the youngest Novak had trained with that British psychopath. Plus, Cas was almost as terrifying as Ketch—he would have no qualms about fighting back. Gabriel really didn’t either, but it wasn’t as though he’d kept up with his skills—not enough to hold his own against a man who killed for profit. Fuck. Gabe felt as though he might be sick. 

He’d just wanted his father to love him. That’s all. And what the hell was wrong with that anyway? Dads were supposed to love their kids—without question! What was so wrong with Gabriel and his siblings that Chuck didn’t care? He’d just wanted to be loved—and now he might get killed for it. Screw that! Chuck’s affection wasn’t worth his life; not to Gabriel anyway. It was time for him to do something drastic. There was no way in  _ hell _ that he was going to go down like this. If he was going to end up on the business end of Arthur Ketch’s Walther, then he was at least going to go down fighting. 

He vaguely registered Dean pulling the car off of the poorly lit, two lane highway. The crunch of gravel under the tires seemed unnaturally loud to Gabriel in his current state of rising panic. Once the car stopped, Dean killed the engine and leaned over Sam, pulling a cheap disposable phone from the glove box. He casually tossed it to Gabe, who was unprepared and fumbled it for a few moments before he gripped it tightly and looked at Dean with confusion. 

“Okay, Low Rider,” Dean sneered as he turned to look back at Gabriel. “You’re going to call daddy and have him call off the Hound of Baskerville.”

Gabriel snorted. “You really think I could make  _ daddy  _ yank the leash on Arthur Ketch? You must be as stupid as you look, Dean-o.”

The glare he got was enough to pull Gabe out of his despair, and make him decide that he would do anything he could to stick near the two men in the front seat. At least they knew who Ketch was and presumably what the man was capable of. “You can try, right?” Sam was giving him a devastating puppy-eyed pout. It made Gabriel’s insides feel mushy.

“No,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s pointless. He won’t listen to me and I’m sure the cops will trace the call. It’s dangerous and just plain stupid.”

“They can’t trace this number, jackass,” Dean said. 

“He’s right,” Sam added. “Not only is it a burner, but it’s blocked by someone higher up on the food chain.”

“Your boss?” Gabriel cocked an eyebrow at Sam. 

Despite the warning glare Dean gave him, Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you two,” he gestured between them with a single finger, “are cops.”

“No,” Dean barked, just as Sam replied, “Not exactly.”

“Whatever sweetcheeks,” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Dean growled. 

“Oh yeah, big boy?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes in a challenge. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Dean leaned over the back of the bench seat and fixed Gabe with a look that might have made a lesser man wet his pants. Gabriel wasn’t intimidated...much. “If you don’t,” Dean said. “Then your free ride is over and you can get out and walk in whatever direction you choose.” 

Gabriel glanced worriedly out of the window into the surrounding darkness. There were no streetlights nearby and the forest was so close to the shoulder that it was almost encroaching on the road. Through the pines, he could see glimpses of what was presumably a full moon; and right on cue, he could swear he heard the howl of a wolf. Gabe hated nature more than most things and the thought of trying to find a gas station or even another vehicle on this deserted stretch of road was making his palms clammy. 

As though Dean could sense his uneasiness, he faked a smile and said, “I hear mountain lions get hungrier during their mating season, and that started last week.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “Don’t lie to him. You know nothing about mountain lions.”

“Hey, I watch the Discovery Channel,” Dean said. “Either way, we’re still gonna leave you here if you don’t make the call.”

Gabriel could see that Sam felt bad, but that he wasn’t about to stand up to Dean on his behalf. “Fine,” Gabriel snapped after a moment of consideration. If they were going to force him to do this, then the consequences were on them. He wasn’t known as The Trickster in school for his fun pranks—it was due to the cruel ones. 

Powering on the phone, Gabriel dialed his father’s private line from memory. As he waited for the connection, he took the opportunity to glare daggers at Sam and Dean. It took four rings for the call to go through and then Gabriel heard his father say, “This is God.”

Gabriel tried not to roll his eyes at Chuck’s pretentious greeting. Did he seriously speak to clients that way? What a dickbag. “It’s me,” he said.

“Gabriel!” To anyone listening in, Chuck sounded relieved that his son was alive and contacting him. Gabe knew better. His dad was suspicious, and wasn’t taking any chances. “Son, are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. He could almost imagine that Chuck really was concerned for his well-being. That his father loved him and wanted him home. Gabriel let himself have ten seconds to bask in the fantasy before he got back to business. No freaking way was he going to let his father, or the cops listening in know where they were. Ketch would show up before anyone else, and they’d probably all end up dead.

“Who took you Gabriel?” Chuck demanded. 

Over the airwaves, Gabe could make out the subtle click of the cops beginning to listen in. Might as well give them a good show, since  _ no one  _ was going to get what they wanted from this call.

“I don’t know,” Gabe mumbled a little and chewed on his lip, trying to look uncertain and nervous for Sam and Dean. Couldn’t have those two jerk-offs pulling the plug. He needed to stop this kind of crap in its tracks. They were stuck with him until either Ketch, or Chuck himself, were off the board. 

“Did they hurt you?” For the first time, Chuck’s voice sounded dangerous. The voice of a man who had far too much power, and wasn’t afraid to use it. 

“Not really,” Gabe said. He looked up and saw Sam looking upset, while Dean rolled his eyes and waved his hand to hurry Gabe along. This was it.  _ ‘Fuck you too, Dean Machine.’ _ “Daddy,” Gabriel said, using the name just to make it even worse.

“What is it, Gabriel?” 

Gabe tried not to grin as the next phrase slipped from his lips. “Daddy, he made me touch his penis.”

There was a beat of horrified silence on both ends of the phone. The twin looks of horror on Sam and Dean’s faces as they both snapped their heads up and met his eyes were almost worth whatever they’d do to him. In a flash, Dean reached out and snatched the phone out of Gabriel’s hands and ended the call before tossing the cell out of an open window. 

“Touch what?” Dean’s eyes were bugging out of his head, and he looked as though he wanted to squeeze the life from Gabe with his bare hands. On the other side of the car, Sam hadn’t said a word, but his wide eyes and open mouth showed his internal panic.

For his part, Gabriel sunk back into the leather seat, and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing his captors with a defiant and unapologetic look. “Oops,” he said casually.

*~*~*~*~*~*


	7. Various and Sundry Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions and tempers flare, as Castiel gets a little help of his own, and a new player enters the game...

Sam had to admit that he had  _ not  _ seen that coming. He probably should have, knowing what little he did about Gabriel, but he was still frozen in shock when Dean launched himself over the seat at the short blonde. 

As Dean’s hands wrapped around Gabriel’s neck, Sam could see the sassy expression melt into something resembling actual fear. Gabe’s own arms flew up, in a vain attempt to push Dean off of him, as the two men scrapped over the barrier of the seat. “Are you insane?” Dean screamed. “What is wrong with you?” 

A string of barely intelligible curses followed, some of which were rather inventive. All the while, Gabriel began shrieking himself, uselessly batting his hands at Dean, wailing about not being ready to die. Sam finally managed to shake himself from his stupor, and grab one of Dean’s arm in his large palm. “Woah,” he shouted. “Dean, stop! You’re freaking him out.”

“Good!” Dean snarled. “That little prick probably has the cops broadcasting that we’re sex offenders now, which is not only fucking  _ sick _ , but it will make people that much more likely to turn us in if they recognize us!”

He knew that his brother was right, but he was also sure that there was some sort of explanation. Relaxing momentarily as Dean withdrew, Sam turned to try and talk with Gabriel who was wide-eyed and pale in the backseat. Before he could say a word though, Dean was exiting the car, and moving to yank Gabe out of the back. 

Sam unbuckled and leapt out, just as Dean managed to grab ahold of Gabe and start pulling. The shorter man was screeching loudly and trying to grab purchase on  _ anything _ to keep from being pulled outside. His short, manicured nails were scrambling along the leather, and he had one foot braced on the doorframe, while Dean tugged painfully hard on whatever part of Gabe that he could reach. It was almost amusing, if Dean’s glare hadn’t been so full of rage. 

“You can’t do this!” Gabe screamed. 

“My car, my rules, dick,” Dean countered. “You’re not sitting in my girl for one more second after that bullshit.” Dean pulled at Gabriel’s arm, twisting it painfully. 

A shriek of pain burst forth from Gabe’s lips and he kicked uselessly at Dean with his free leg, keeping the other wedged in the door. “I’m not going anywhere,” he kept saying. “If you leave me here, I’m going to die! Don’t you care?”

“Not at all,” Dean snapped, putting more force behind his tugging. 

Gabe’s foot slipped, allowing Dean enough time to pull him bodily from the car. One of Dean’s hands wrapped around the collar of Gabe’s yellow jacket as he hauled him up. Sam jumped forward and tried to pull the shorter man away from his brother when he saw Gabriel’s feet kicking helplessly in the air. “Dean! Stop it, you could hurt him!”

“Good!”

“No,” Gabe wailed, stretching the word out, as Dean shoved him to the ground.

Gabriel flopped into the dirt and scrambled away from Dean, who was advancing on him menacingly. Without a second thought, Sam jumped between them, using his height to tower over his enraged sibling. “Back off,” Sam placed a firm hand on Dean’s chest. 

His brother threw his hands in the air. “Oh, now you’re defending the mini jackass?”

“Thank you, Samalicious,” Gabe piped up from behind Sam as he crawled to his feet. 

Sam didn’t even turn as he looked hard at his brother. “No, I’m not,” he said.

“Sure looks like it,” Dean interrupted.

“I hate to agree with Lou Ferigno, but he’s right,” Gabriel added unhelpfully. 

Dean reached for him over Sam’s shoulder reflexively but was blocked when Sam grabbed him saying, “You can’t just beat the shit out of him and leave him on the side of the road.”

“Why not,” Dean glared at Gabriel. 

Sam was eighty-three percent certain that Gabriel was making faces at Dean, which wasn’t going to help his cause. “Because for starters, it’s assault.”

He heard Gabe snort. “Like that would stop him?”

“You don’t know me, asshat,” Dean said. 

“Gabe,” Sam spared him a quick glance. “Shut up, you’re not helping.” He leaned in close to Dean and firmly said, “Go away. Just walk it off for a second and let me talk to him.” In front of him, Dean was practically vibrating with emotion, so Dam pulled out all the stops. “Crowley said to bring him, so that means we’re going to bring him.” He knew that deep down, Dean would chafe at disobeying a direct order—especially from Crowley. He respected the man, but ultimately they were such good friends that Dean would never purposely try to piss their boss off. 

“Fine,” Dean hissed back before shooting one last glare at Gabriel and walking away toward the other side of the car. 

Sam waited for him to get a few feet away before turning to find Gabriel standing sheepishly behind him. He looked small and borderline nervous, as though he was actually concerned that the Winchesters would dump him in the middle of nowhere. The hunched posture and frightened eyes looked wrong on Gabriel and for a moment, Sam considered pulling him into a tight embrace. He shoved the random urge back into the depths of his subconscious though, knowing full well that it was a terrible idea.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gabriel made the smallest of movements and said, “You seem to be asking me that a lot, kiddo.”

“Why would you do that?” Sam pressed. “We asked you for a favor. You  _ know  _ we aren’t the bad guys here. You also know that we weren’t the ones who kidnapped you and put you in that trunk in the first place. So,” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Why?”

“You know what?” Gabriel suddenly looked more furious than terrified. “I  _ don’t  _ know that you aren’t the villains in this little soap opera. I don’t know anything about you,  _ Sam _ .”

The sound of his name on Gabriel’s lips made Sam flinch. He hadn’t realized that in the few hours they’d been acquainted, that the ridiculous bastardized nicknames had become something  _ meaningful _ . Righteous, golden anger flashed through Gabriel’s perfect eyes, and Sam’s throat went dry. This wasn’t right.  _ None of this was right _ . 

“Gabriel,” he began. “I promise that I will explain—just not here. I told you that I wasn’t going to hurt you and I meant that, but I need a little bit of trust here. I—“

“No,” Gabe interrupted, crossing his arms. Sam could see scrapes of dirt across the yellow leather from when Dean had tossed Gabe to the ground. “I have no reason to trust you when you tell me that you aren’t going to hurt me, and then turn around and ask me to put my head under the damn guillotine.”

“What?”

“Calling my father?” Gabriel said, as though explaining to a child. His voice was  _ dripping  _ with sarcasm as he waited for Sam to figure out what he was getting at. Apparently he took too long because after a few moments, Gabriel rolled his eyes and gave a low whistle. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe how absolutely obtuse Sam was being. “You know Cassie, and you know my family,” Gabe said. “But you don’t know that calling dear old daddy is the last thing we should have done?”

“We needed to get Ketch—“

“There is no fucking way that my dad was going to pull his Terminator off the trail, kiddo,” Gabriel’s tone was softer, almost sad. “All we did was give them a chance to find us.” Gabriel huffed and pulled his hands down his cheeks, shaking his head. “The Five-Oh might not be able to trace your little cell phone, but you have no idea the kinds of people who work for my father. He’d have Ketch on his way to our location before the call even ended.”

Something greasy and horrible twisted in Sam’s guts. “Why would you care?” He finally managed to ask. “Ketch would just bring you home,” Sam said. “Right?”

The slow shake of Gabriel’s head made Sam’s blood flip to ice. “I expected Cassie. When Dean-o said he’d reached out to one of yours and was looking for me, I wasn’t surprised. I’m sure that father gave him an earful when I went missing. Probably blamed it all on Cas, honestly. And my baby bro is just the sort who’d accept that guilt, even though he had no part of it.” 

Sam was losing the path of the conversation, but he kept listening. “I didn’t expect Arthur,” Gabe locked eyes with Sam. Despite the seriousness of their situation and the harsh wobble of Gabe’s voice, Sam took a moment to marvel at how gorgeous those amber eyes were. He felt as though someone had kicked him right in the gut when he saw the swirling gilded colors in Gabe’s gaze. 

“Kiddo,” Gabriel’s use of the endearment snapped Sam back to reality. “If Ketch is involved, then my father probably called him in to clean.”

“Your father would send his personal assassin after you?” Sam was horrified at the possibility. 

“Sammy,” Gabe’s lips were twisted. “If you have to ask, then you really don’t know anything about Daddy Dearest.”

“Oh my god!”

“Careful, kiddo, he might hear you,” Gabriel attempted levity. The joke fell flat as Sam’s mind raced trying to figure out what to do next. 

“You really think he’d sic Ketch on us?”

“You two muttonheads? Absolutely,” Gabe said. “Me? The odds are pretty high. We’ve never really gotten along.” The sigh he made broke Sam’s heart. “He’s probably thrilled he finally has an excuse for Ketch to get rid of the black sheep of the family. I was never much of an Angel to him.”

Sam didn’t really know what that meant, but he chose not to ask. Not now, at least. They needed to get moving, as far from the phone that Dean had chucked as possible. If Gabriel was correct and Arthur Ketch was coming, this could turn deadly—and that was the last thing that any of them (especially the Bureau) wanted. 

“Okay,” he said, reaching out for Gabe’s arm. When the shorter man drew away from his grasp, Sam sighed internally. He really hoped that he hadn’t fucked up whatever it was that they had between them. “Gabe, please,” he tried. “Get in the car. We’re getting out of here right now.”

Amber eyes darted over Sam’s shoulder towards Dean. “What about Walter Sobchak over there?”

Though he was impressed with the reference—that he knew Dean would enjoy—Sam forced himself not to smile when he said, “I’ll handle Dean.”

He could see the war going on in Gabriel’s head, and Sam took pity. He held out his palm in a silent invitation, watching as Gabe stared blankly, trying to decide what to do. “I’ll protect you,” he said, trying to imbue some comfort in his tone. “Gabe,  _ please _ .” Their eyes met when Gabriel finally dragged his gaze away from Sam’s hand. “I know you don’t want to, but please trust me.”

Watching as Gabriel worked his jaw and swallowed thickly before giving a short nod, Sam let out a puff of air in relief when their fingers touched. “Okay, kiddo.”

Sam grinned as he tightly gripped Gabriel’s hand as though the mere touch of their fingers was a life-raft. At this point, it fit—the minor contact was pushing all of the horror, doubt and anxiety from the day out of Sam, and filling him with something sharply sweet. “Thanks.”

The small, disgruntled noise that Gabe made only had Sam smiling brighter. “I’m holding you to that—the protection thing,” Gabe said. “If Dean messes with me again, I expect you to have my back.”

The idea of going against his brother wasn’t pleasant, but Sam found himself nodding and saying, “Of course,” anyway. He received a dazzling smile in response, and Sam could feel the back of his neck heat under the collar of his suit. 

“Guess that means you like me?” Gabe winked. 

Sam made a strangled garble and refused to answer. He tugged on Gabe’s hand and pulled him back to the car. On the other side of the Impala, Dean was pacing a groove in the gravel and dirt of the road. Sam looked pointedly at his brother as he opened the back door for Gabriel and ushered him inside.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean glared. “No! No way is that tiny nightmare coming with us!”

“Dean,” Sam snapped, effectively shutting his brother up. Carefully closing the door, knowing that Dean would just bitch even more if he slammed it, Sam sighed. “He said that Chuck could probably trace the call, no matter what mojo Charlie might have put on our burners. It’s not safe.”

“So?” Dean rested his palms on the top of the car, the skin white with tension. “We’re leaving anyway—its fucking Gabriel’s problem, not ours.”

“Like I said, Crowley wants to see him,” Sam said. “And Dean,” he made sure his brother was paying attention when he said his next words. “He also said that Ketch is probably looking for him. To kill him. He thinks his own father wants him dead, Dean. He panicked.”

He could see the exact moment that the idea of Chuck sending a killer after his own child sunk into Dean’s mind. A nerve on his face twitched and Dean’s eyes flashed bitterly. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

The pause was almost too long before Dean finally nodded. “Fine. But he sticks with us—if he thinks his dad is trying to kill him, he might flip and testify for us.”

Reflexively, Sam looked through the window into the car. Gabriel was sitting in the center of the seat, rubbing his fingers together as though he was cold, eyes staring straight ahead and one leg bouncing. He didn’t seem to have heard a thing. Looking back at his brother Sam sighed. “Maybe. But I don’t think he’s involved with anything, Dean. You heard what he said about a bogus job title and an allowance.”

“It would still look good at trial, and you know it,” Dean countered. The brothers moved to get into the car, but before either of them opened a door, Dean pointed at Sam over the freshly waxed hood. “If he’s coming, he’s your responsibility. If I have to deal with him too much, I’m going to punch him in the dick.”

“Fair enough,” Sam chuckled as they slid into their seats. If anything it would give him a good reason for keeping an eye on Gabriel at all times.

Next to him in the driver’s seat, Dean grinned at the purr of his precious Baby’s engine as she came to life. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dean said, as he peeled out, back onto the road. 

Gabriel sat silently in the back, watching nothing out of the window as they bumped along the highway. With one eye on the road, Dean fiddled with the radio, finally landing on a station playing Styx. For his part, Sam pulled up the GPS on his own phone, and began to chart out a route that would get them to the cabin in Angel’s Breath quickly and safely. He passed on a few options to Dean, who acknowledged them silently. There were a few no-tell motels that they could choose from to get a few hours sleep. For now, all Sam wanted to do was put distance between them and the shattered remains of a possibly tracked cell phone lying in the dirt six miles back.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove the most direct route to Angel’s Breath, Castiel activated his hands free calling for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He’d been trying to reach Charlie since he left Wesson’s warehouse, and he was beginning to become perturbed. He didn’t understand why one of the only humans that he called a friend would repeatedly send him to voicemail. It was rather rude. Then again,  _ he  _ was also breaking etiquette by calling her repeatedly when she had specifically told him not to. Somehow, Castiel didn’t care so much about social niceties when his brother was at risk. 

The torn photo that he’d stolen lay on the passenger seat, the three faces looking up at Cas, as if taunting him. He spared a glance at the picture before looking back to the road as he muttered, “Shut up.” He had no idea if he was talking to the photo, or himself. Frankly, both scenarios were rather disturbing. 

Deciding to try one more time before stopping for a drive-thru coffee, Cas dialed Charlie again. This time, the call actually began to ring instead of clicking straight over to Charlie’s automated greeting. 

“What?” Cas started when the call connected and his friend hissed into the phone. 

“Charlie,” he said. “It’s Castiel.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. Her voice sounded despondent and wary. “Look dude, I can’t talk to you. I’m in the middle of some serious shit here and I can’t risk my job right now.”

“What does my brother and Samuel Wesson have to do with your job?”

“Nothing,” Charlie’s response was too quick and Cas’ eyes narrowed.

As much as he hated to do this, Cas knew that he was going to have to hit below the belt to get some answers. “I was unaware that when someone owes you a ‘life debt,’” Cas said. He used one hand to make quote fingers as he recalled the term Charlie often said when speaking of one of her space movies, before continuing. “That there were caveats to worm out of paying up.”

On the other end of the call, Charlie sucked air in through her teeth. He could picture the look of disgust on her face perfectly. “That’s low.”

“I am aware,” Cas admitted. “But my brother’s life could be at stake, and I don’t need to tell you how important Gabriel is to me, Charlie.” Castiel allowed a beat before hitting her with the clincher. “He’s really my only family.”

“I know, Cas,” Charlie groaned. “I’m sorry, but...I can’t.” Castiel didn’t have enough time to speak before she repeated, “I’m so sorry,” before ending the call.

_ ‘Well that didn’t go as planned.’ _ Castiel tried to work through things on his own. The pictures on the warehouse wall, Charlie’s job, Sam Wesson, Grace Avionics, Gabriel tying himself up, their father involving the police in the first place. All the pieces were fitting together to make one hell of a picture.

Castiel pulled off of the highway and swung through the nearest fast food establishment. He indulged in two greasy burgers and a large coffee. While the food was predictably delicious, Cas was certain that the lukewarm drink was leftover from that morning. It was stale, and too watery, but it would do the trick. He needed to make up ground if he wanted to catch up. Especially since he was only headed to Angel’s Breath on a damn hunch and a rather old photograph.

Despite the time, Castiel decided to pull into one of the empty spots near the dumpster and idle his car to eat. He preferred to keep both hands on the wheel while driving, unless of course he was shooting at someone out of the window.

He was halfway through his second burger when the phone rang jarringly over the car’s speakers. The chorus of ‘ _ Red Right Hand’ _ by Nick Cage and the Bad Seeds made Cas choke on the food in his mouth. He briefly wondered if it would be more painful to die by burger or answer his brother Lucifer’s call.

Speaking with his oldest brother was always painful. Not only was it a complete minefield—requiring almost surgical precision in a verbal dance with a sociopath—it was also a guaranteed way for father to know every move. In an almost sad attempt to remain Chuck’s favorite, Lucifer was a well-known tattletale. Castiel knew that if he ignored his brother, that Lucifer would just call back incessantly until he answered. It was probably karma for Cas doing the same thing to Charlie. With a long-suffering sigh, Castiel connected the call. 

“Hello, brother,” he tried to keep his voice as even as possible. At the very least, Cas was grateful that Lucifer had called before he began driving again. 

“Little Castiel,” Lucifer’s voice was dripping like something sweet and deadly. Honey and cyanide, or maybe birthday cake containing rat poison. “How’s the search for our little Trickster coming along? Father’s worried.”

“It’s not even been a day, Lucifer,” Cas rubbed the bridge of his nose and forced his tone to stay level.

“True,” Lucifer said. “But Gabriel has been missing for days.” 

“I wasn’t even informed of his kidnapping until yesterday afternoon,” Cas knew that his protests were going unheard. 

If Lucifer was calling on behalf of their father, then Chuck was going to make a move—and it would most likely be Arthur Ketch. However, if his brother was calling on his own, then his curiosity didn’t bode well either. Lucifer might not be getting his hands too dirty these days, but Castiel knew firsthand how cruel, unstable, and dangerous his big brother could be. This fishing expedition of a call could be Lucifer’s way of seeing all the pieces on the board before he did something drastic—like switching the game from Chess to Candy Land while no one was paying attention. 

“Have you managed to get any sort of lead?”

“Perhaps.”

There was a drawn out pause, and Castiel could hear the irritation bleeding into Lucifer’s next words. “Well? Care to share with the class?”

“Not at this time,” Castiel said in a monotone. “I would, of course, be happy to speak directly with father—but I’m not sure that anything will pan out.”

“Father’s busy,” Lucifer said.

“Consumed with worry for Gabriel, I’m sure.” Unlike Gabe, Castiel was rather young when he had mastered the art of being rude without people realizing that he was insulting them. Gabriel rubbed people the wrong way, and many thought of him as a selfish assbutt. The same people, however, just assumed Castiel was ‘odd,’ and allowed him more leeway. Even Lucifer and their father didn’t think that Cas had the capacity for sarcasm, which had allowed him to make some rather bold statements in the past. 

Unaware that Cas was simply being critical, Lucifer hummed and said, “Of course. We’re all concerned about our missing Angel.”

“Indeed.” Another beat of painful silence and Castiel took the opportunity to end the conversation. “I must go, Lucifer. I’m expecting a call from an acquaintance that may be able to help.”

“As long as they’re discreet,” the older sibling said. 

“You have nothing to be concerned about,” Castiel assured him. “I trust this person.”

“Keep in touch, little brother,” Lucifer said. For a moment, he almost sounded human. The illusion was ruined, when he continued, “Don’t make me track you down. Remember your place.”

The connection was severed before Castiel to respond to the threatening words of his sibling. For a moment he sat unmoving in the crushing silence of his car, forcing his breathing to remain even and slow. Lucifer was up to something, that was certain. Castiel had long ago learned the signs, and The Morningstar was about to change the game on them all. But was it under father’s orders, or was he going off script on his own? Either scenario was plausible and had already been done—Cas just needed to figure out what Lucifer was playing at. 

He groaned and clicked his jaw. He was going to end up with temporomandibular joint dysfunction from the stress of his life. If he couldn’t rely on Charlie, then he was going to have to throw his weight around in-house. Grace employed the best of the best in ‘Technological Security,’ with the notable exception of Charlie Bradbury. Most of them were low-level hackers who were decent enough on their own. However, if Charlie wasn’t helping him, she may be attempting to hinder; and if Cas was going to send someone up against his friend, he needed the cream. That meant he needed his Chief of Tech, Frank Devareaux.

Frank was a paranoid psycho who lived in an airstream trailer that he parked behind the barbed wire on Grace Headquarters property. He’d hooked his mobile lab-house-broadcasting studio into the power sources, and rarely left the premises. He had an office in the building, but it was used for storage now because Frank said there were listening devices in the walls and his trailer was much safer. Safer from the government, his coworkers, or possibly aliens—no one knew. Frank Devareaux was an odd duck, but he was one of the best in the business, and indispensable. He was given leeway on his genius alone. If anyone could help him, it was Frank.

“What did one snowman say to the other?”

Honestly, Castiel shouldn’t have been surprised by the random greeting when Frank answered. He’d known the man since he was a child, and Frank was all about the secrecy and code words. In Cas’ opinion, the man might have seen one too many James Bond movies. “Frank,” he sighed.

“Answer the question, or I’m going to assume you’re an enemy and hang up.”

Sighing, Castiel wondered when his life had become so ridiculous. Maybe it always had been this way—who knew at this point? “Smells like carrots,” he said through his clenched jaw. 

“Bingo,” Frank said happily. “What can I do for you, Castiel, Oh, Son of God?” Frank thought Chuck and his egotistical use of religious designation was beyond pathetic, and Castiel was fully aware of that fact. For that matter, so was Chuck—but Frank was talented enough to let it slide for now. 

“I’m sure that even if you haven’t been told, that you’re aware of Gabriel’s... _ kidnapping _ ,” Cas began. It pained him to say the word when he’d watched with his own eyes, Gabriel putting  _ himself _ in the trunk of the car. 

“I’ve been popping into the copper’s database every so often to get the hot gossip,” Frank confirmed. 

“Father has tasked me with retrieving Gabriel,” Castiel said. 

“And you need some professional help?” Devereaux chuckled, and it rankled.

“Apparently,” Cas allowed. “I have some names: Samuel Wesson, and Dean.”

“Dean, what?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel confessed. “He drives a classic black Chevrolet Impala, I’m not sure of the year.” He then gave Frank the address of the warehouse which he’d broken into and found Gabriel’s BMW.

“You’re just a wealth of information, aren’t you?” He was certain that Frank was rolling his eyes as he teased him, but he couldn’t be certain. Devereaux might actually be irritated at how little Castiel knew.

“Apologies.”

“I’m fucking with you,” Frank said. 

Cas could hear the clicking of fingers flying across computer keys and Frank humming ‘Teddy Bear’s Picnic,’ of all things. “Nothing can get back to either Lucifer, or my father, Frank.”

“Noted,” the hacker said seriously. Despite being an employee of Grace Avionics, there was no love lost between Frank and the Novaks. He was very vocal that Castiel was the only one he could tolerate. “Looks like they’re headed north.”

North was good. It was the same way that Castiel was driving. They could very well be headed to Angel’s Breath as Cas had guessed. “How do you know that?”

Frank made an irritated sound. “Because I know how to do my job,” he said. “Also a 1967 black Chevy Impala with what looks like three people went through a monitored intersection off of the highway an hour ago near Port Huron, but they never passed another camera.” Frank sounded pleased. “Can’t be many cherry condition late sixties Impalas with three dudes rolling around this area. Especially since this one is registered to a ‘Dean Smith,’ of Ohio.”

“That has to be them,” Castiel couldn’t help the hitch of excitement in his voice. 

“Gee, ya think, Einstein?” Frank snarked. 

The hacker then rattled off the intersection where the car had been recorded only fifteen minutes previously. It was a few hours away, but Cas could make the drive easily. If they hadn’t been picked up by another camera, then they were probably nearby. He could check the local backroads and lodging establishments until he found them. “Contact me if the car is picked up again,” he ordered. 

“Sure thing,” Frank said before hanging up without another word. 

Castiel smiled to himself. Things were finally looking up. There was a very good chance he could find Gabriel before dawn, which was the best possible news. Once he was reunited with his brother, they would figure out their next move—together. Pulling out of the lot, Castiel got back on the road and headed north in the direction of both Port Huron and Angel’s Breath. He had direction again, and Castiel wasn’t going to stop until he found his brother. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

The heat of the fire was making Gordon sweat under his cheap polyester suit. He’d always hated scenes involving the fire department. Those jackasses never had regard for preserving evidence; they just sprayed their foam and water all over Gordon’s crime scene. And they always took center stage when the news crews came—acting like they were such heroes. Grandstanders, more like it. Always trying to take the credit away from hard-working cops like him. 

Running the back of his hand across his brow, the skin came back sticky and slick with perspiration. He wanted to believe it was because he was standing so close to the now burnt warehouse, but he knew that in part it was due to nerves.

What was once a building now looked like a few crumbling brick and concrete walls, burnt black. There was no roof any longer, having collapsed almost fifteen minutes earlier. He’d heard all the firefighters had gotten out after their interior check. Despite his enmity toward them, Gordon was glad there were no casualties. A death would have brought even more scrutiny down on this investigation and he knew that God would be furious at that. 

Hopefully they would be able to get some information soon. While Gordon had nothing concrete to go on, he did have a sick, roiling feeling in his gut. He knew that this blaze was no accident. There were reports from two firefighters that the canary yellow Beemer inside had been sporting vanity plates registered to Gabriel Novak. Both the car and the plates were beyond help at this point, however.

Gordon tried to keep his expression schooled as he looked at the devastation in front of him. He was just grateful that Victor had fallen into conversation with both the fire chief and the arson investigator, leaving Gordon alone for the time being. This whole disaster with Novak’s useless kid, and now worrying about the Feds possibly being in on this bullshit? Walker needed a stiff drink—or ten. Hell, at this point he’d kill someone for a strong cup of coffee. 

“Hey, Detective.”

Turning toward the chipper voice, Gordon eyed the uniform in front of him. Garth Fitzgerald. Sometimes Gordon wondered how the gangly kid managed to make it through the academy. He was all clumsy sweetness and smiles, even when things weren’t going their way. Not hardened enough for their precinct at all. Shaking his head, Walker looked slightly up at Fitzgerald, which rankled him. “What?”

“I just got the official word, the building is registered through a few management companies, but the last renters on file are a Mr. Dean Smith and a Mr. Sam Wesson,” Garth said, inexplicably smiling, as though he had delivered good news. Moron. 

“Thank you,” Gordon said shortly. “Is there anything else?”

“Nah, not at the moment,” Garth said easily. “I’m just waiting for Detective Henricksom to finish with the fire guys so I can let him know too.”

Sensing an opportunity, Gordon pasted on a fake smile and patted Fitzgerald’s shoulder. “You know, Garth,” he said. “I can pass the info along to Victor—we are partners, after all.” He did his best to sound sincere. “You’d actually be a big help to this investigation if you could head back to the station and see what you can dig up on these renters, Smith and Wesson.” He tried not to spit the name of the man he’d thought was his friend and his ticket deeper into Novak’s trust. 

Fucking Sam Wesson. Gordon was going to put a bullet in the asshole if he ever saw him again. 

“I can do that,” Fitzgerald was saying happily. “I’m on in, boss!”

Gordon kept the smile on his face as he watched the young police officer saunter off, waving to various first responders as he headed back to his patrol car. At least Garth might get lucky and stumble across something that could help pull Gordon out of his own fire and frying pan situation. 

Once he was relatively alone again, Gordon slipped over to the edge of the barricades and pulled a cellular phone out of his suit jacket. He fiddled with it for a moment, trying to work up the stones to make what was sure to be the worst call of his life. With a curse, he typed in a number that he’d been forced to memorize years earlier: Chuck Novak’s private line. He’d been given ‘The Path to God’ under the strictest of orders—it was never to be used unless it was the very last resort. Detective Gordon Walker knew that today was the day it would come in handy. One ring, then two. Three metallic tones sounded before the line clicked over.

“This is The Morningstar.”

He didn’t know why the son was answering his father’s phone, and in the moment, Gordon Walker didn’t care. He just knew that he needed to pass along the new information and try to salvage what he could. He’d worked too long to be cast out of the inner circle. “Lucifer, I need to speak with God immediately,” Gordon hissed into the phone, his voice panicky.

“You are no longer allowed a direct line to God,” Lucifer’s voice was pleasant. “Due to your lapses in judgement, you will be dealing with  _ me  _ for the foreseeable future. Whether you remain of any use, will be entirely up to me.”

The smile was evident in Lucifer’s tone, and Walker’s blood ran cold. He’d been on Novak's payroll long enough to know that Lucifer  _ never  _ forgave. Anyone who reported to him in an attempt to fix a mistake usually disappeared soon after. Gordon himself had botched a few such trails to help the cause—he knew The Morningstar’s methods. He never got his hands dirty, but he was always the man who made the call.

“We can fix this,” Gordon tried. 

“I certainly hope so, Walker.” The threat hung between them as Detective Gordon Walker spilled his guts to God’s favorite son.

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I actually had a lot of fun with Frank. This was my first time writing him and he amused me.


	8. Slumber Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas meets Dean. Dean meets Cas. And Gabriel finally gets Sammy's shirt off!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More details on the Winchester's past and how their parents died. It's unpleasant but not super graphic IMHO.

For as long as he could remember, Gabriel had been told that he needed to ‘tone it down.’ His tutors, teachers, staff, even his friends—and especially his father—had always said that Gabriel never knew when he’d crossed a line. It was complete bullshit of course, but none of them knew  _ that  _ little tidbit. In fact, Gabriel always knew when he should be reigning things in. The problem was that pissing people off was not only his speciality, it was also damn fun.

Tonight though, buckled into the back of Dean’s car as they sped down the highway, Gabriel knew that now was neither the time, nor the place, to push his luck. It might be enjoyable on occasion to tap-dance close to the edge, but Gabriel was by no means suicidal and he had a feeling that Dean might actually shoot him before the night was over. Gabe slouched in the seat, uncharacteristically silent, as he spent the miles staring at the back of Sam’s head. Particularly one rather delicious looking spot on his neck which was exposed whenever Sam would tuck his hair behind his ear. It was beyond tempting, and Gabriel  _ really  _ wanted to run his tongue along that exact place. He imagined what Sam would taste like; how he might sound begging for more. It was enough to make Gabe squirm, which sadly didn’t go unnoticed by Dean.

He was glaring into the rear view mirror at Gabriel when he snapped, “If you so much as ask if we’re there yet, I will sell your internal organs for cash.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Gabe muttered. He forced himself to remain still and stare resolutely ahead.

It felt as though no time had passed before the car was angling into the parking lot of a one story brick motel with a half dark sign and only a handful of cars visible. All of the windows were covered in a layer of dust and most of the lights were burnt out. Dean pulled the car directly in front of the office and barked at the others to stay put while he got them a room.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Gabriel said just as Dean went to leave. 

“About what?” Dean oozed frustration. 

“We can’t stay  _ here _ .”

“Why not?” Sam twisted to look at him. 

Gabriel goggled at them, his eyes darting from one to the other as it began to dawn on him that this was  _ not  _ a joke. “Because it’s a shithole,” he said finally. 

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed his door open while Sam smiled fondly at him. “I’ll be right back,” Dean said. 

“I’m serious,” Gabe pressed. “I refuse to stay somewhere that I’m a hundred percent sure has bedbugs.”

“Gabe,” Sam said. “We stay in places like this all the time—it’s fine.”

“Well, good for you,” Gabriel was almost beginning to wish that Dean  _ had  _ left him on the side of the road. At least Ketch would have probably just put a bullet between his eyes instead of dragging him to some flea-bitten, pay-by-the-hour, dump that would most likely give them all tetanus. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m a Novak and we have a little something called standards when it comes to accommodations.”

“Listen, Princess,” Dean growled. “We are staying here and that’s final. You don’t like it? Feel free to start walking, I don’t care what you do. Sammy,” he looked across the car. “Grab our stuff from the trunk while I check in.”

“Cash,” Sam reminded him.

“I’m not an idiot—this isn’t my first time,” Dean scoffed.

Gabriel’s entire body seemed to deflate as he blinked dumbly at Sam. He couldn’t understand why they would stoop so low to stay somewhere like this. “Samalicious,” Gabe said. “This place is horrifying.” Sam’s response was a chuckle. “I’m not kidding. Look at this place! We should report them to the FDA or TSA or something!”

“I’m pretty sure that neither of those agencies would care since they don’t regulate hotel standards,” Sam said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as he climbed out of the car and popped the trunk.

“Well OSHA then,” Gabriel said, trotting after him. He had an odd feeling that was making his skin crawl and he wanted to stick close to Sam. It was probably bedbugs, honestly. Gabe shuddered at the thought.

“Doubt they’d do anything either. You could leave them a shitty Yelp review,” Sam suggested, pulling two plain duffle bags out and tossing them over his shoulder. “But this doesn’t seem like an establishment that would be bothered by that.”

Watching as Sam rummaged around and eventually pulled a half empty bottle of whiskey from under a moth eaten blanket, Gabe scratched absently at his shoulder. Sam waved the alcohol at Gabriel with a grin and tucked the bottle into one of the bags. “How can you be okay with sleeping somewhere like this?” Gabriel asked. 

Sam sighed softly. “Let’s just say that I’ve slept in worse places.” The admission made Gabriel’s heart sink. “And if we are trying to stay under the radar, we can’t stay somewhere that anyone would recognize you.”

“That means no places with room service,” Dean was back, tossing a key to Sam while pointing across the lot. “End unit, number 15.”

Gabriel followed Sam, trying not to pout too much. What he’d said made sense, but that didn’t mean that Gabe had to like it. They strode across the lot to their room, while Dean drove the Impala a few feet down to park it in front of their door. When Sam shoved the key into the lock and the door swung open, Gabriel actually sucked in a breath at the sight. “Apparently it also means that we can’t stay places with housekeeping services either,” he glared at Dean, who ignored him and pushed into the musty smelling space.

When Dean tossed his bag onto the bed nearest the door, a cloud of dust flew up and Gabe tried not to gag. “Classy digs, Dean-o.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer. If Dean tried to shoot him, Gabriel was reasonably sure that Sam would step in. And if he didn’t, then at least Gabe wouldn’t have to sleep in this disgusting room if he was dead. Small comforts. Briefly, he wondered where he’d went wrong in his life to end up here. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his brother Cassie said, “You brought this on yourself.”

“I suppose I did,” Gabe muttered. 

“What?” Sam was looking at him strangely and Gabe just shook his head and moved to sit on the empty bed. 

“I don’t think so, Novak,” Dean said, pointing to the two-seat sofa across the room. “You get the couch.”

“What?” Gabe wrinkled his nose. 

“Sam gets the bed,” Dean said. 

“Why?” Gabe pushed.

“For starters, because I hate you,” Dean smiled at him. 

“Not a good reason,” Gabriel replied. 

“And secondly, he won’t fit on the couch— _ you  _ will, Mighty Mouse.”

“Rude,” Gabriel glared. 

“Dean,” Sam spoke up. “I don’t mind for one night.”

The two men started to argue with one another, and Gabriel lost interest in seconds. He poked his head into the bathroom and saw that the sink was dripping and there was a line of soap scum around the edge of the tub. Allowing himself a small groan, Gabriel pushed the idea of a hot bath out of his head. No way was he stepping in there without a hazmat suit. 

The sound of a door slamming pulled him back and Gabriel leaned back out into the room to see that Dean had left and Sam was shaking his head. “What’s wrong, Samshine?”

“Dean,” Sam replied. “He’s just being a jerk. Said that if we couldn’t figure out the sleeping arrangements that maybe you and I should share.” Sam’s laugh was rueful and Gabe wasn’t sure if it was irritation or longing.

Deciding to test the waters, Gabriel slipped fully into the room and flopped on the unclaimed bed. “It’s not the worst idea in the world, kiddo.”

Sam’s head shot up and their eyes locked. For a moment, the only sound Gabe could hear was the rushing of his pulse. “No, it’s not,” Sam finally said in a whisper. 

_ Gotcha!  _ He gave Sam a predatory smirk and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m game, if you are.”

For a moment, it seemed that Sam was considering before he turned and pulled the bottle of whiskey out of his bag. He crossed the room and sat down next to Gabriel, his fingers idly playing with the liquor in his hands. “Dean would kill me if he knew I was telling you this,” Sam began. “But you’re going to find out everything from Crowley tomorrow anyway.” He looked up and met Gabe’s eyes. “And I told you I’d tell you everything later.”

“Yeah you did,” Gabe agreed, prompting. “And it’s later now.”

“It is,” Sam dipped his head. He twisted open the top of the whiskey and took a deep pull straight from the bottle. 

Another man might have felt ashamed taking the opportunity to stare at the long lines of Sam’s exposed neck, but Gabriel had never had much shame to spare. He openly ogled until Sam swallowed and passed him the bottle. Never one to waste a drink, no matter the caliber of said liquor, Gabe shot Sam a wink before tipping the bottle into his own mouth. The whiskey was cheap, and much stronger than he’d been expecting, but Gabe didn’t flinch or cough as he drank his fill.

Sam watched him closely, his eyes darkening when Gabriel licked his lips and grinned. “Like what you see?” Gabe taunted. 

“Yeah,” Sam’s voice was husky. His body jerked, as though he was about to lean in, but had thought better of it at the last second. “But I need to tell you who I am before...whatever this is, goes any further.”

“All right,” Gabe schooled his features into something less flirty and more serious. “Hit me.”

Sam huffed a small laugh and then nodded. “Dean isn’t my business partner,” he began. “Not really, anyway.”

“Oh fuck,” Gabriel said, half-jokingly. “He’s not like, you’re ex-boyfriend or something, is he?”

The look of horror on Sam’s face would have been comical if he also didn’t look like he might throw up. “Ew! No!” Sam gagged, “Dean is my  _ brother _ !”

His forehead wrinkled and he pulled back from Sam as he said, “Brothers, huh? Okay yeah, I can see that.” He tilted his head as he regarded Sam. “That’s the big secret?”

“It’s not all of it,” Sam admitted. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re FBI.”

Gabe actually snorted at that. “You and Dean? Are Feds?”

Nodding, Sam said, “We’re field agents. We’ve been undercover for almost a year trying to make a case against,” Sam paused. He swallowed thickly and Gabriel was on the edge of his seat to see what Sam would say next. “We’re going after your father.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose at the admission. “You’re after my dear old dad?”

“Yeah.”

“My brothers too, I’m guessing?”

“Yup,” Sam confirmed. “Mostly just Lucifer, though. And Ketch too, obviously.”

“Duh,” Gabriel said. He was surprisingly calm about the entire admission. Sam was trying to take down his family, and Gabriel was having trouble caring too much. It seemed that they weren’t after Cas, and he was the only family Gabriel really cared about if he was being honest. At the very least, if Chuck and his minions went to prison, Gabriel himself might make it out of this mess alive. “Though I doubt that you’ll get the smarmy bastard to roll over on my dad without a hell of an incentive. Ketch has been glued to God’s ass since I was in diapers.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. Something was off in his tone—a subtle warning—and it set Gabriel on edge. “This thing with your dad,” Sam said. “Taking down God is personal. To me, to Dean, to our boss Crowley. This isn’t just any old case to us. We all pushed for this assignment”

He searched Sam’s face, seeing the pain etched there. He handed the bottle of whiskey back and watched Sam take a large gulp. “This is revenge, isn’t it?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Sam said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“God touches all of our lives,” Gabe muttered sarcastically. He met Sam’s eyes, the gorgeous mixture of blues and greens drawing him in. “If my dad did something so horrible that you’ve started down the path of vengeance, then how can you even look at me?”

“What?”

“You heard the question, kiddo. You’re too smart to play stupid.”

His eyes never left Sam as he watched the younger man go through a rush of emotions. “Because you aren’t like them,” Sam said softly, yet firm. “I might only have known you for a day—“

“Less than,” Gabe interrupted with a grin.

“A few hours then,” Sam smiled back. “But I  _ know  _ you. At least...I feel like I do.”

“Gotta say, kiddo,” Gabriel said. “No one’s been able to get under my skin as quick as you have. It’s a damn miracle. I’m not the nicest, or most trusting of guys,” his tone was rueful. “But there’s something about you, you gorgeous moose—I like you. More than I should.”

“I know the feeling,” Sam’s lips twitched. He had another drink and passed the bottle back to Gabriel, who took a swig of his own. “So you’re okay with me being with the Bureau?”

Making a show of raking his eyes over Sam’s wrinkled navy suit, Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “Could be fun,” he teased. “A man of the law and the son of his criminal enemy? Sounds a little like a shitty romance novel.”

“I guess it could be,” Sam said slowly, somewhat unsure. 

“Does that mean that we’d get a steamy sex scene?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Nope,” Gabriel grinned. “I just know what I want.”

Sam froze, and their eyes met. The moment was heated and charged with something just beyond lust. Gabriel knew that most of it was all the mounting tension and raging hormones that Sammy The FBI Agent had brought out in him during their short acquaintance. He wanted the younger man with a force that he’d never before experienced. It was terrifying and wonderful—like opening your eyes underwater and seeing nothing but blackness beneath your feet. Exhilarating. Gabriel knew that it was going to be all too easy to get addicted to Sam. It wouldn’t take much, just a little push and he’d hold on for all he was worth—and in all honesty, as a Novak, he was worth a fuck ton.

Later, Gabriel wouldn’t remember who moved first, only that the bottle of whiskey slipped from his fingers, splashing into the stained carpet, and Sam was in his arms. Their lips met, the kiss electric and bursting with desperation. Sam tasted like cheap whiskey and a hint of hot sauce from his omelette, hours earlier. 

It was fucking perfect.

They slotted together, melding perfectly into each other’s embrace, and Gabriel heard himself actually  _ whimper _ , which should have been humiliating but only made him crave Sam even more. Before he could think, he was pushing off of the bed and crawling into Sam’s lap, their hips grinding together as they necked like teenagers. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough. 

Gabriel pressed his fingertips into Sam’s chest and gently pushed the taller man backward. He could feel Sam melting under his touch as he guided the younger man back into the bed. As they adjusted their bodies, Gabriel forced himself from Sam’s perfectly sinful mouth and licked along the man’s neck— _ exactly _ where he’d fantasized about marking in the car. The reality was  _ so  _ much better. Sam’s head fell back at the contact and he sighed, teetering on the edge of bliss.

“So, when can we expect the Deanster back?” Gabriel whispered as he nibbled along Sam’s jaw.

“Maybe another hour or so,” Sam managed on a whine of neediness. “He said he was just grabbing some food and a few beers.”

“Plenty of time for us to have a little fun,” Gabriel pushed Sam deeper into the mattress, settling himself on Sam’s waist, and pinning the taller man to the bed. 

“I don’t want Dean to walk in on us naked,” Sam gasped.

Gabriel pushed himself up so that he was balancing on his knees, straddling Sam’s hips. “I didn’t say I was going to steal your virtue, kiddo,” he cackled. “Not yet anyway. I’m talking about a classic, heavy petting, slip you some tongue, make-out session while the stuffy grown-ups are out.” He leaned forward and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to Sam’s lips. 

When Sam kissed back, it was pleading for more. As he opened his lips for his new lover, Gabriel couldn’t help the smirk that soon melted into a searing, erotic dance. Their hands were everywhere, stroking and grasping, trying to touch as much of one another as they could. 

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Gabriel groaned into Sam’s mouth. “Just make sure we,” Sam gasped, “keep the clothes on!”

Gabe hummed thoughtfully as he continued to kiss Sam with everything he had. “Can’t promise I won’t get you out of your shirt, kiddo.”

They had a limited amount of time to take advantage of both the privacy and the newness of their burgeoning relationship. Fuck, Gabe hoped this was was relationship. He wasn’t one to look for commitment, but he wanted nothing more than to have this man in his life for the rest of time. They fit perfectly into one another, both physically and—perhaps even more shocking—emotionally. Gabriel fisted one hand in Sam’s hair, as his other raked down the taller man’s chiseled torso. No doubt about it, Gabriel Novak was going to do everything he could to make sure that Sam was, and always would be,  _ his _ .

*~*~*~*~*~*

The burger he’d ordered had been passable, but nothing like Connor’s Diner in St. Louis. It had been years since he and Sammy had worked a case in Missouri, but those damn double bacon cheeseburgers still frequented his dreams. Sammy always told him that a burger couldn’t be life changing, but Dean knew the truth.

Unfortunately, any peace he’d managed to find in his temporary escape from Sam batting his eyelashes at the miniature douchebag in their custody had disappeared at the blatant flirting from his waitress. She didn’t take ‘No’ for an answer, and he was strongly reminded of Jo, which was more than a turn-off. Besides, he wasn’t feeling the female flavor as of late. 

It wasn’t common for a man of the law to be out and proud, even in this day and age, but Dean and Sam had never exactly played by the rules. And Dean would be damned if he ever tried to live as someone that he wasn’t. If he could suck it up and come out to Bobby, the man who had raised them like his own sons, then Dean could come out to anyone. Not that Bobby had cared in the slightest. But fifteen year old Dean hadn’t known how his adoptive father was going to react when the school had called about Dean and his buddy Mick being found under the bleachers with their pants down. Bobby had just told him to pick more discrete locations to avoid embarrassment and reminded Dean that condoms were still a must, even without the risk of pregnancy. After that, Dean had decided that he was just going to be himself, and fuck the consequences. Lately though, with this case hovering so close to breaking open, and the pushiness of Jo, he was really craving a more masculine encounter.

He’d tried to politely brush the bleach blonde off, but when she didn’t take the out gracefully, he’d proceeded to slam a few brews and leave as quickly as possible. He’d ordered some take out to bring back to Sam and Gabriel, but for some reason, Dean didn’t feel as though he’d been gone long enough. Those two had some serious sexual tension shit to work out. Dean shuddered at the thought before his mind wandered to the logistics since Gabriel was basically three feet tall. That only made it worse and he gagged a little as he kicked some gravel across the parking lot on his way back to their lodgings. 

The bar he’d chosen was only a few blocks away, but Dean was purposefully walking slow to give the other two a little more time alone. He was such a good brother. Too bad Sammy never noticed how considerate Dean could be when it suited him. The empty highway that he was now strolling down had sporadically lit lamps and Dean stopped underneath one and shifted the bag of food he’d got for Sam and Gabriel into his other hand. As he glanced back toward the bar, and the flickering sign over the parking lot, Dean suddenly felt much too exposed. He instinctively reached up under his flannel shirt to check for his holstered gun. It was always there, but sometimes he needed to feel the roughness of the grip, the weight, in his hands.

Satisfied, he picked up the pace. Screw letting Sam and Gabriel have a moment, something was pricking at the back of Dean’s neck and he wanted to see that they were all right with his own eyes. He trotted along the road, his eyes on the shadow of the motel just up the highway. The large, dirty window of the motel’s office was still brightly lit, the door ajar. He could see the clerk who’d checked him in, sitting on a stool, the faint sounds of a porno emitting from the tinny speakers. Dean shook his head, and grimaced at the reminder that he hadn’t gotten laid since Sam had made contact with Gordon Walker a few months back. He hadn’t been on a dry streak like this in years, and he could say with absolute certainty that he wasn’t a fan of celibacy. This case came first. Novak going down was the only thing that he was focused on at this time. The man had ruined lives--his and Sam’s lives--and for that, nothing was going to distract Dean from the finish line.

Dean could see Baby parked in the shadows right where he’d left her. It was in the spot directly in front of the end unit they had rented for the evening. He wasn’t too concerned about someone trying to steal his precious car, but you could never be too careful--especially with the uneasy feeling that was still gripping his spine. He took a single step before his brain registered what he was seeing.

There was a man leaning against his car.

Not only was it a cardinal sin in Dean’s book to touch his most prized possession without permission--Dean also had no fucking idea who the dude was. The bag of bar food hit the pavement, containers popping open and splattering across the ground as Dean whipped out his weapon and pointed it directly between the man’s eyes.

The guy didn’t even blink. The only movement was a slight tilt of his head, as though he was thoroughly confused at Dean’s actions, and a slight breeze that caused both his blue tie and boxy tan trench coat to flutter in the wind. “Get the fuck off of my car,” Dean’s voice was low.

“You must be Dean,” the man’s words were low and rough, scraping along Dean’s ears. He was a bit ashamed at his visceral response to the sound. He’d never been aroused by only a voice before.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean was more than just pissed off. Now his blood ran cold as the man revealed that he knew Dean’s name. This was six shades of fucking awful, and Dean was really hoping that he wasn’t going to have to shoot the guy and blow their cover.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“That’s not an answer, Columbo,” Dean snapped. 

The man regarded him curiously, as though Dean were a slightly interesting science project, and not an increasingly irritated man holding a weapon on him. It made Dean uneasy. No one should be that unfazed while staring down the barrel of a gun--people with such little care were usually unpredictable and beyond dangerous. “Joanna’s assessment seems correct--you  _ are  _ rather rude,” he said.

The name pinged in the back of his skull, but Dean had tunnel vision and was uncaring why it sounded familiar. “You wanna talk rude, asshole?” Dean said. “You’re the one touching something that ain’t yours, pal.”

The man blinked and looked down where he was leaning against Baby’s hood. “Your car means a great deal to you,” he observed. In a graceful motion, he stood upright and stepped away from the Impala. “My apologies.”

A harsh breath punched out of Dean’s lungs as the stranger moved away from Baby. He allowed his gaze to dart to her shining paint for a split second before fixing his attention on the man once again. “Start talking before I start shooting,” Dean demanded. “Who are you? How do you know my name? And what the fuck do you want?”

Something sparkled in the guy’s icy blue eyes--an unspoken challenge. For the first time, Dean realized that perhaps he wasn’t the only one affected by their situation. Just as the man opened his mouth to possibly-- _ finally _ \--give him some answers, the door to their room swung open to reveal a barefoot, and shirtless Sam, weapon at the ready, glaring at both of them. “Dean,” Sam said, stepping out into the parking lot. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Dean replied. “Inspector Gadget over here was just about to tell me who he is.”

“I assure you that I’m not an inspector of any kind,” he said, sounding confused. Dean watched as the man turned his attention to focus on Sam. “Wesson,” he said, his teeth clenched.

At the sound of Sam’s undercover alias, Dean knew that things were about to get dicey. Only one thing could make this worse, and it was about five foot eight and hovering in the doorway behind Sam. He groaned and closed his eyes in frustration. Even if Sam had told Gabriel to stay out of sight, he’d known the infuriating trust fund brat long enough that he wasn’t surprised that Gabe had probably disobeyed orders to poke his nose where it didn’t belong. Dean saw the flash in Novak’s eyes as he saw the awkward, yet seemingly fearless intruder. 

As Gabriel stepped out from behind Sam, Dean started to say his name, trying to get Novak to stop and get out of the line of fire. But the short pseudo hostage beat him to it. His eyes were bright, flashing gold as he gaped at the man Dean was aiming at. “Heya, bro.” 

“Gabriel,” he said in that tantalizingly gruff voice. “You look...unrestrained.”

“What can I say, I have nice kidnappers,” Gabe shrugged.

Something passed between the Novak brothers before the newcomer glared at Sam and then fixed his irritated gaze back on Gabriel. “You have Stockholm Syndrome, you mean,” he observed tightly.

Dean looked over at Sam who had flushed red and he groaned, lowering his gun. “Sammy,” he chastised. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“Sorry, Dean.”

“I’m hard to resist, Dean-o.”

“Can it, shortstack!”

A throat clearing made all three of them focus on the man in the trench coat once more. “May I suggest that we move this indoors away from prying eyes. If I could find you, someone else could feasibly do the same. It’s not exactly prudent for all of us to be standing here armed to the teeth.” He leveled Sam with a look that would have made a lesser man squeamish. “And I would like a word with you, Wesson.”

“Don’t go scaring off the love of my life, Cassie,” Gabriel said, spinning on his heel and heading into the cramped motel room. ‘ _ Cassie? This was Castiel Novak--Head of Security for Grace Avionics? No freaking way!’  _ Dean was actually speechless.

“You mean your new ‘kept boy,’” Castiel responded with actual quote fingers as he moved uncaringly past the Winchesters, following his sibling.

He and Sam exchanged looks, tucking their weapons in their holsters and following the Novak siblings inside. “Watch it, Castiel,” Gabriel’s tone was unnervingly sharp as he used his brother’s full given name. “I’ll play nice to a point. But if you keep insinuating that Sammy isn’t special, well,” Gabriel gave his brother a cruel smile. “We all know how much fun I can have when I’m angry. Don’t make this difficult on yourself.”

Cas actually ducked his head and looked ashamed as Dean closed and locked the door behind them. “Apologies,” Castiel said. He looked briefly at Sam, “To you as well, Mr. Wesson.”

“Yeah,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Might as well get this out of the way now,” he looked at Dean. The silent conversation was only a few seconds long before Sam turned back to Castiel. “My name isn’t Wesson. It’s Winchester.”

Dean saw the moment the light flooded those gorgeous eyes. For the first time, Castiel Novak didn’t seem to be in complete control and it was unnerving--even for Dean who’d known the man for all of five minutes. “Winchester?” Castiel said. He looked to Dean and got a single nod in response. “As in John and Mary Winchester?”

“They were our parents,” Dean said stiffly.

Castiel nodded silently and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed nearest the door; the one that Dean had claimed for himself. “So that is why you are doing this?”

“What? No,” Sam shook his head. “We had nothing to do with Gabe’s kidnapping.”

Dean grunted. “Yeah. This is all just a tangled, coincidental fuck up.”

“Winchester?” Gabriel’s brow suddenly furrowed. “Why do I know that name?”

“Saint Patrick’s Day,” Cas’ voice was hardly a whisper. “Sixteen years ago.”

“Right,” Gabriel sounded flat. “Luci’s first ‘project.’” He turned to Sam and Dean. “He was nineteen and thought he was above us all.”

“Not that he’s changed much,” Castiel added.

“Project?” Dean’s voice was low. “That’s what you call it?”

“Dean,” Sam’s voice usually calmed him, but hearing it now, only added to the fire that he felt building in his chest.

“That’s what Luci and our father called it,” Gabriel corrected, though there wasn’t much fight in his tone.

“Yeah, well,” Dean snapped. “I was fourteen years old and my parents were gone because of a few sick sons of bitches and what my dad did for a living. Sammy was nine. Old enough to remember them, but still too young to really get that when we moved in with our Uncle Bobby that it was permanent. My kid brother grew up without his parents because of  _ your  _ family.”

“Exactly,” Castiel sounded firm once more. “Which is why you will forgive me if I don’t take you at your word when you say that you haven’t kidnapped my brother.”

“They’re cool, Cassie,” Gabriel said.

“I also don’t trust  _ you _ very much at the moment, Gabriel,” Cas pointed out. “I’m your brother--so I know very well that you’re a liar.”

“Ouch, my feelings,” Gabriel placed his hand over his heart and rolled his eyes.

“Gabe,” Sam said suddenly, as he sat down on the other bed. The mood in the room dropped once more. “Why did Cas say ‘Saint Patrick’s Day?’ Our parents died in November, not March.”

The Novaks exchanged a look and Dean knew that the answer wasn’t going to be good. Not that anything involoving the murder of his family could be considered anything except horrific. “It’s because of the drink, kiddo,” Gabriel sounded pained. When Sam didn’t reply, he continued. “It’s a popular drink on St. Patrick’s Day--shot of whiskey and irish cream dropped into a pint of Guinness,” Gabriel said. When the meaning dawned on both Winchester’s the air in the room felt heavy with tension and sorrow. “Irish Car Bomb,” Gabe said, his lips curling in disgust.

“Lucifer thought it was funny,” Castiel added. “Our father agreed.”

“Twisted fuck,” Gabe muttered, flopping down on the bed next to Sam, who was looking shell shocked. 

As thoroughly sick as Dean felt, he was more concerned for his brother. He found himself feeling a bit of relief as he watched Gabriel reach up and rub soft circles on Sam’s back. Sam sunk into the touch, seemingly not repelled by the fact that his crush was related to the same people responsible for destroying the Winchester’s lives. Maybe Sammy was more serious about Gabriel than Dean had first suspected. If that was the case, then they were all screwed.

The silence was oppressive, but no one seemed inclined to break it. Dean’s skin felt itchy the longer that the quiet settled. Finally, he managed to pull himself together enough to push the other Novaks from his mind and attempt to figure out their next move. “Nothing changes, Sammy,” he said. His brother nodded, but didn’t speak. “We keep our eyes on the prize. Get to Crowley and figure out how to fix this.”

“I know, Dean,” Sam said softly.

“Who is Crowley?” Castiel’s gravelly voice broke through the brother’s chick-flick moment. Dean was actually grateful for that. 

“He’s—“ Sam started. 

“—Someone who can help,” Dean cut his brother off. 

He knew that Sam was willing to spill all. Christ, he’d probably told Gabriel who—and  _ what _ —they were already. But as much as Dean found Castiel Novak to be every inch the kind of man he wanted in his bed, he wasn’t about to trust God’s youngest son on the fact that he had pretty blue eyes and pouty pink lips. 

He stood firm under the scrutiny of those beautifully narrowed eyes as Cas said, “I understand why you don’t trust me, Dean. But if you are under the assumption that I’m just going to tag along without conflict or questions, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“They trust you, Cassie,” Gabe said, still comforting Sam with his touch. 

“No, they do not, Gabriel,” Castiel didn’t take his eyes off of Dean as he spoke. “They don’t trust  _ you  _ either.”

“Yes they do.” Gabriel was smiling obnoxiously. 

“I don’t trust you,” Dean said. 

“Sam trusts me,” Gabe replied.

“No, he doesn’t,” Dean glared at the short blonde. 

“Dean,” Sam groaned, just as Gabriel began to chirp, “Yes, he does,” on repeat. 

“Gabriel!” Three voices snapped out, cutting off Gabe’s repetitive singing. 

Glaring at his brother, Dean said, “I’m going to kill him.”

“It pains me to inform you that if you harm my brother, I would be forced to disembowel you, and send your entrails to your loved ones,” Castiel said dryly. 

“That would be me, Cas,” Sam said rolling his eyes. He seemed to be under the impression that Novak was joking, but Dean wasn’t too sure. The guy may have put on an act, pretending disgust at his family’s actions—Dean wasn’t going to let his guard down so easily. 

In response to Sam, Castiel shrugged, and picked at a loose thread on his coat. “At least that would save on postage, seeing that you’re already here.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dean cut in. “We have an early start tomorrow if we want to reach Crowley at a decent time.”. Dean considered telling Castiel to get off of his bed, but decided against it, opting to sit down on the ripped, squeaky sofa. “Sammy—you and Fun Size can hit the hay,” he said.

“You need to sleep too,” Sam looked at him. 

“I’m just going to stay up a bit and talk to Veronica Mars, here,” Dean lied, gesturing to Cas. He had absolutely  _ no  _ intention of closing his eyes in the same room as someone who worked directly for Chuck Novak, much less one of the man’s sons. He’d been planning to stay awake when it had just been Gabriel as it was. Dean smiled thinly at Castiel. “You can tell me exactly how you managed to track us down in the first place.”

“It wasn’t hard,” Castiel said. Across the room, Sam and Gabriel tried to stifle their snorts of laughter. 

“Shaddup,” Dean glared at them. 

Sam and Gabriel busied themselves getting ready for bed. Dean even refrained from commenting on Sam letting Gabe use the spare toothbrush that they kept in Baby’s glove compartment. While the two of them danced around one another, casually touching and whispering sappy shit that Dean could almost hear; he focused most of his attention on Castiel who was still perched on the edge of the bed. 

The muffled sounds of Gabriel playfully teasing Sam floated out from the bathroom as Dean and Castiel stared one another down. “You are more than welcome to sleep,” Cas gestured to the bed that he was occupying.

Dean managed what he would call a smile, but Sam would categorize as a grimace. “No offense,” he said, fully meaning to offend. “But there is no way in hell that I’m going to close my eyes with you in the room.”

“Fair enough,” Castiel didn’t look upset by Dean’s words. In fact, his rigid posture seemed to relax at the confession. “I have no plans to sleep either, not when my brother’s safety is at stake.”

A flash of sweetness flooded Dean’s chest--the familiar feeling of camaraderie. He hadn’t felt anything like it with someone who wasn’t Sam, Bobby, or Crowley. Not ever. Apparently Novak understood the pull to protect your sibling, and Dean respected that. “Who’d have thought that we’d have something in common,” he finally said.

As Sam and Gabriel settled into the other bed, their limbs wrapped around one another, uncaring at the lack of privacy, Dean’s eyes never wavered from Castiel. The moon rising high in the sky bathed the room in a cold, natural light as the two of them continued their silent stand-off. Across the room, Gabriel let out a soft snore, and flopped around before clinging to Sam’s side like a limpet. Dean kept watch. By this point, he wasn’t even sure if Castiel was breathing. It was inhuman, but something about the younger man’s dedication to what he deemed ‘his cause,’ was comforting. In the dim light, Dean could see Castiel blink once--slowly. This was going to be a long fucking night.

*~*~*~*~*~*

One of the only two functioning street lamps overlooking the poorly maintained parking lot began to flicker before succumbing to the inevitable. Arthur Ketch sat back in the driver’s seat of the late model sedan that he’d commandeered from a run-down apartment complex near the burning warehouse and sighed. He’d chosen the vehicle partly because it was nondescript, as well as an older model that was less likely to be reported—but mostly because it seemed to be reasonably clean. The last thing Ketch wanted was to catch something from a stranger’s germ-ridden seat covers. 

He’d watched the meeting between Castiel and one of the men from the warehouse, from the safety of his stolen vehicle. Ketch found it rather amusing how unflappable the youngest Novak was in the face of  _ anything _ . He stopped trying to shock Castiel years ago, after they’d first met. 

When Cas was only twelve, Chuck had introduced the two of them in the hopes that Ketch would train up his youngest to be in charge of Grace’s security and eventually Chuck’s personal safety. Arthur had invited the young boy to sit across from him at the carved wood table in Chuck’s office. In the locked room, Ketch had removed one of the knives he kept on his person at all times; this one had been taken from a Spetsnaz officer that, in Ketch’s words, “no longer needed it.”

Arthur Ketch remembered the look in those blue eyes--almost blank as Castiel watched the edge of the blade. He didn’t put up a fuss when Chuck took his son’s hand and laid it flat on the table, fingers spread. He didn’t even blink when Ketch slammed the tip of the knife into the table next to Castiel’s hand for the first time. The stoic child sat there, unrestrained, as his father watched Ketch stab the blade between Cas’ fingers--faster and faster, until the knife was almost a blur. Ketch never took his eyes off of Castiel’s. They stayed that way, locked in some sort of competition, and despite being the grownup--the proven killer--Ketch remembered wondering if he was the one who was winning.

When God called a stop, Ketch immediately withdrew the knife, and tucked it away. Castiel was still unmoving, and looking almost bored. As Chuck praised his son for his courage, it didn’t seem to register to Castiel in the least. From that day, Arthur Ketch had taken young Castiel Novak under his wing, and had stopped trying to intimidate the boy. Cas was his prize student. He knew that it would take more than a gun pointed at him to make Castiel crack.

As Ketch waited for any sort of signal that the occupants of the motel room were settled in for the night, he shifted again in the uncomfortable bucket seat. When he’d started the warehouse blaze, he’d known that the chances of losing Cas’ trail was high. But it was more important to cover his tracks. Once he was certain that even Walker could stumble through the instructions he’d been left, Ketch had found a car to commandeer and put in a call to God. 

Thankfully, his employer was one of the most paranoid men in the world--he didn’t even trust his children all that much. Which was why, Chuck Novak had equipped all of his son’s cellular phones with a tracking device. Surprisingly, Gabriel’s had been manually deactivated when he’d been kidnapped, a feat that Chuck was still irritated about. However, Castiel’s was currently working just fine. Once Chuck had given Ketch access, he could track the youngest of Chuck’s ‘angels’ across the planet if need be.

As he waited, Ketch tried his best to piece together the big picture. When Castiel and the man with the gun had been interrupted, Ketch had actually felt his stomach drop at the sight of Gabriel peeking out of the motel at first. He seemed well, he wasn’t restrained, and he had been standing awfully close to the abnormally tall man next to him. Something more was going on behind the scenes here—he could tell. For the first time in his life, Ketch had decided against checking in with Novak and spilling his guts. He was going to wait and see if he could figure this puzzle out on his own before going off half-cocked. 

His first thought was that Gabriel had been helping these men—the Feds—to take down his own family. That was an unforgivable betrayal. Ketch forced himself to do some deep meditative breathing to calm himself as he continued to watch the motel room door. As incriminating as all of this looked, going out of his way to help  _ anyone  _ wasn’t Gabriel’s style. He was much too lazy to try and topple his father’s business. The stunts he’d pulled as an intern were the juvenile pranks of a bored teenager. Ketch knew there had to be another explanation, but if it came out that Gabriel  _ was  _ betraying his family, Ketch would have zero qualms about taking the obnoxious prat out. 

In the relative silence of his car, Arthur Ketch went through all that he could recall of the middle child of God. The tantrums, the money, and every incident with the local authorities which had to be smoothed over throughout the years. It was possible that along the way, Gabriel had thrown his lot in with the fuzz. Doubtful, but possible. 

Snapshot images and bits of conversations flowed through Ketch’s kind as he sat patiently in the dark. Once he was certain that the occupants of the motel were down for the night, he would utilize the opportunity to tag both vehicles with a tracking device. He wasn’t going to rely solely on the one in Castiel’s phone. Sooner or later, his protégée would wise up and dump the thing if he was planning to join his wayward sibling and the pretty badges keeping them company. 

A few hours later, when the room’s lights had been switched off, and there was little chance of being spotted, Ketch hurried over to the compensation-on-wheels that the feds were using and tucked a small tracker under the driver’s side wheel-well. He repeated the task with Castiel’s vehicle parked a few spots away before heading back to his own car across the lot. Arthur Ketch settled in for the night, knowing that come the dawn, when his prey made their move—he would be ready. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT CAS LEANING ON BABY I CAN'T EVEN *hyperventilating*


	9. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas do a little bonding (as best as they can), while Sam and Gabriel finally get a little action! Meanwhile, Enter Crowley and Juliet, Stage Left!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW semi public sexual acts.

The ancient coffee maker sparked when Castiel plugged it in and he glared at it. He wasn’t as much of a snob as Gabriel, but he still found the accommodations that the Winchesters had chosen to be subpar. He believed the kindest word to describe their lodgings for the evening would be ‘sketchy.’ On the plus side, it was probably safer for them. No one would expect a Novak to stay at such an establishment.

In an effort to control something of his situation, Cas measured the coffee with precision. He’d always assumed that motels were stocked with single serving packages, but he hadn’t been able to find any. His frustration as he dug around the small kitchenette had broken some of the tension in the room when Dean laughed at him. 

Apparently the machine was sometimes supplied at places such as this, but the coffee was not. Dean explained it all to Castiel as he dug around in a zippered bag for a moment before pulling out a generic metal can of grounds and tossing it. “I’m always prepared,” Dean said, as Castiel caught the tin. 

“You were a Boy Scout?” The derisive snort seemed a bit much as a response to his question, but Castiel didn’t say anything. 

“Nah,” Dean sounded deceptively casual. “Sammy and I didn’t really get the whole ‘normal childhood’ thanks to your family.”

Cas pressed the button to start the coffee brewing and remained silent as he walked over and sat on the opposite edge of the sofa. The two of them were plastered to their respective sides, but the couch was small enough that their knees occasionally knocked together. 

The silence stretched awkwardly and Cas wished that it would end. “I am sorry,” he said stiffly. The words felt foreign—he was able to count on one hand the times he’d apologized during his life; and all of the previous sentiments had been to his father. “I know that it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me,” Castiel continued. “But Gabriel and I had nothing to do with your parent’s death. We were children. And both of us were disgusted when we found out what Lucifer and Ketch had done.” He sucked in some air and watched Dean’s blank expression. Now that he’d started apologizing he couldn’t seem to stop, despite knowing that it wasn’t helpful. “Your mother wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean cut him off. “My mom was just that—a mom. She wasn’t any threat to your father, but she died anyway because your brother and Ketch planted a bomb in their car.” His attention was locked onto Dean’s fists, repeatedly clenching in his lap, as he spit out the words that he’d so obviously been bottling up. “Why the fuck did they have to target my dad in the first place?”

“Father said that John was getting too close,” Castiel whispered. 

“He was a Federal Agent—just like me, just like Sam—it was his job! He was just doing his fucking  _ job _ ,” Dean was forcing himself not to shout and wake up their brothers, but Cas could see the strain it was taking on him. 

Suddenly, the words sunk in and Cas sat up straighter and regarded Dean. “You’re FBI?” He wasn’t even sure that it was a question at that point.

Dean’s eyes went wide for a second before his expression molded into a scowl. “Forget I fucking said anything.”

“Forgive me,” Cas said. “But I must know. Has Gabriel been working with you all this time? Did you or Sam put him up to the kidnapping?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gabriel staged his own kidnapping.”

The words hung in the air between them as Castiel watched Dean process their implication. Turning to glare at their brothers who were wrapped around one another on the far bed, Dean made a rumbling sound in his throat. “Let me get this straight,” Winchester’s voice was measured. “Your brother pretended to get  _ kidnapped _ and ended up pulling Sammy and I into this mess?”

“I’m guessing that means you weren’t aware then,” Castiel replied. 

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

Cas shrugged. “You don’t know Gabriel. This honestly doesn’t surprise me all that much. He was always a bit of a reckless wild card—the black sheep of the family. I’m mostly impressed that he managed to act on such an idea in the first place. He must have planned for quite some time to pull this off without alerting our father.”

“You’re  _ impressed  _ that your brother committed a  _ crime _ ?”

“No one was hurt,” Castiel said. “It would most likely be a misdemeanor charge and Gabriel has had plenty of those—I doubt that he’d care.”

“The locals have probably been tied up with this for days,” Dean pointed out. “He’s going to be charged with false reports, excessive waste of resources—I'm sure he’ll have to pay for the monetary aspect of anything they have been using to find him. Personnel, resources, vehicles.”

Castiel actually chuckled at that. “If you’ve been trying to arrest my father, I would think you’d know that money means next to nothing to my family. Any fees and fines wouldn’t make a dent in our father’s fortune. Nor would the cost of an attorney talented enough to get any and all charges dropped.” Cas looked over at his brother and then back to Dean. “This is par for the course with Gabriel.”

“The file on him isn’t much since it’s been obvious that he wasn’t involved in the family business,” Dean confessed. “Just some minor charges for fake identification, underage drinking—that kind of thing. Regular kid stuff.” He shrugged and looked hard at Castiel. “There  _ was  _ something about a fire at his boarding school too but it was pretty vague.”

He shook his head and laughed fondly, but Castiel didn’t elaborate. It wasn’t his story to tell. “Gabriel is impulsive and a bit of an ass—but he’s not a bad person.” 

“I find that hard to believe with all this fun and new information that you’re giving me,” Dean snorted. 

“What can I say, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “People sometimes do desperate things to get someone’s attention.” Dean was staring at him skeptically. “I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties of working in, what could be referred to as, the family business.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean replied.

“It’s much more complicated when that business is on the wrong side of the law. We still have all of the ‘normal,’” Cas made quote fingers, “family issues. But when you mix violence, money, sociopathic personalities—like my oldest brother—along with the ever present danger of arrest, and things can be a little...stressful.”

Dean seemed to consider his words for a long while, occasionally looking over to their sleeping brothers, or toward the locked door of the motel room. Eventually, his body seemed to uncoil slightly and he let out a soft sigh. “How did you figure out that he was faking the kidnapping?”

“Video footage found by a hacker friend of mine showed Gabriel restraining himself and climbing into the trunk of his car unassisted,” Cas said. “I haven’t confirmed with him, but it speaks for itself.” 

The coffee maker beeped and Cas got up to pour two cups. Neither of them spoke until he returned to the small sofa and offered a paper cup to Dean. “The video also shows Sam stealing my brother’s car. It’s how I knew he was involved in this somehow. It's also how I managed to track you both down.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. 

“On the contrary, my mother was a very kind—albeit odd—woman,” Cas deadpanned. Dean looked at him, taken aback, and floundering at how to respond. Castiel took pity on him and continued. “Once I found your warehouse, I began to guess that Sam Wesson was not who he appeared to be. It was then that I started to consider that Gabriel had been working with him in some capacity.”

“Hell no,” Dean said. “We didn’t meet the pipsqueak until today. Sammy said he found him tied up in the trunk. Total coincidence.”

“Perhaps,” Cas hummed. 

Next to him, Dean shifted as he cleared his throat, and their thighs brushed. “So if you found the warehouse, does that mean you’re the one who burned it to ash?”

Castiel’s head snapped up. “What?”

“It was on the news,” Dean was watching him carefully. “Burned to a crisp—like, ‘need dental records’ kind of burned. Even said the arson investigator was on the scene.”

“No,” Castiel whispered, his mind somewhere between confusion and dread. “I just left.”

“Funny thing,” Dean said, sounding unamused. “My boss called to warn us and he mentioned that he caught a glimpse of Arthur Ketch on the scene.”

Everything in Cas’ body turned to ice. He could feel the blood draining from his face as he glanced quickly to Sam and Gabriel, still asleep, before locking eyes with Dean. “We should leave,” Cas said with conviction. “Now.”

“Slow down,” Dean said calmly. “We’re safe right now. We can wait for morning at least and head straight to the safe house.”

“In Angel’s Breath?” Cas raised a single eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Wait—how do you know we were heading there?”

Castiel hesitated briefly before reaching into his trench coat and pulling out the tattered photograph. He handed it gently to Dean, who closed his eyes as he reverently touched the wrinkled picture. “I found this,” he explained. 

“You must have been pretty damn thorough—cause I know this wasn’t left in plain sight.” Dean’s voice was low and thick with emotion. “Hell, I’d forgotten it was there.”

“I must say that I was surprised to find that you were you; and also that you were alive.”

Nodding, Dean’s eyes never left the photograph. “Yeah, I know. Bad practice in our line of work to leave a picture of someone lying around.”

“Who is the man with you and Sam?”

Dean’s lip quirked. “That’s our Uncle Bobby,” he said. “Dad’s superior and his best friend. He took us in after…”

“He sounds like he was an exceptional man,” Cas didn’t know what else to say. He was hopeless with emotion in any form; and comfort was one of his weaker skills.

“Was?” Dean laughed. “Still is.”

“He is living?”

“Who the fuck do you think owns the safe house we’re headed to?” Dean looked over at Cas with a grin. “Sammy and I learned just about everything from Bobby. He’s a grizzled, old, paranoid drunk who lives off the grid. He’s the last person that we would worry about being able to defend themselves,” Dean was fully chuckling by now. 

Castiel grumbled. “He sounds like my head of tech ops.”

“Don’t worry about Bobby,” Dean said. 

“Will we be meeting him?” Something in Castiel made him yearn to meet the man who had raised the Winchester’s from devastated orphans into the obviously competent and determined men they were now.

“Nah,” Dean said. “This time of year, he and his arch-nemesis go on their annual ‘walkabout.’” He shrugged. 

“He travels with someone he hates?”

Again, Dean laughed, the sound coming straight from his gut. “I say arch-nemesis but I really mean best friend. Rufus and Bobby act like they can’t stand one another but it’s a fucking lie. They’ve been tight since they were kids in the military. Every year they pick some obscure, uninhabited place and basically camp and live off the land for a few weeks. They’ve had some close calls, but they always say it’s their favorite part of the year. I don’t know,” Dean shrugged. 

“So, they’re ‘Frenemies,’” Cas stumbled over the slang, and made awkward-looking quote fingers once again. Gabriel always made fun of him for doing that, but it had become a habit over the years.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said looking as though he was trying not to laugh. “Frenemies, huh? That’s a good one. I’ll have to call them that next time we all meet up. They’ll get a kick out of it.” 

He looked over to see Dean watching him. “What?”

“I get it,” Dean said. “You don’t have to worry about Ketch right now.”

“Actually, you don’t ‘get it,’” Cas said. “I trained under that man. He’s ruthless, morally corrupt, and insane. If he’s been following me, then he  _ will _ find us.”

“I’m sure he will,” Dean agreed. “But here’s the thing—I need him off of the board. Whatever game this is to your dad, Ketch needs to be taken out of play. And the best way to do that is to get him somewhere isolated and let Crowley handle it.”

“I assume this Crowley is more than just a man who can help us?” Castiel referred to the pitiful explanation he’d been given earlier. 

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “He’s our boss. And he has skin in the game too. As much as Sam and I do, for sure.”

“Which member of his family did my father have killed?” Cas clenched his jaw.

“Not my place to say,” Dean said. “Just know that this is personal for all of us and we aren’t about to fuck it up now.”

“You’re using us all as bait for Arthur Ketch,” Cas stated simply. He had no feeling on the matter other than keeping Gabriel safe. 

“Look,” Dean didn’t deny it. “I would _ never _ put Sammy in danger. Not ever. I know what it’s like to always be looking after your brother. You might not be the older one, but you sure took on the responsibility. I can see it in your eyes, Cas.” He managed a conspiratorial grin. “You might have been born last, but you’re the one who makes sure everything is going okay.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, his knee knocking against Dean’s with an electric jolt. He didn’t appreciate how this man could read him so easily. It was disconcerting at best. “Perhaps,” was all he allowed. 

“So I’m telling you—as one brother to another,” Dean laughed softly. “We’re gonna let them sleep and in the morning we head out. I will  _ not  _ let anything happen—to either of them. You have my word.”

There was a long pause before Castiel said, “From what little I know of you, your word seems to be as serious as it gets. Especially considering that you’re including Novaks in this protectiveness.” He glanced to the window, covered by the heavy curtain to give them all a modicum of privacy. “Very well,” Cas said. “We can stay. But if anything happens to Gabriel,” he said. “I will be most displeased.”

“Fair enough.”

They sat in silence in the dark, sipping at their cooling coffee. Cas slowly began to feel himself minutely relax. The usual tight coil of his musculature was melting into complacency for the first time. Something about Dean Winchester’s presence was soothing the life-long ache in Castiel. 

For as long as he could remember, Castiel Novak had been looking out for the safety of his family—and at that moment, sitting in a dark motel room with a man he should count as an enemy, Castiel didn’t feel the pressure so keenly. It was nice to have someone else to keep watch, even if that person might not be the logical choice. Castiel didn’t care. 

On this night, in this place, Dean helped alleviate his burden, and all Cas could feel was gratitude. He let out a soft breath, and his thigh brushed Dean’s once more. Neither of them moved or spoke for the rest of the night, keeping a silent watch over the brothers that they loved, united in the common goal of family.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam felt as though he was lying in a huge patch of sunlight. All of his limbs were heavy and drenched in comforting warmth. He could honestly say that he had no intention of moving in the near future. Someone was draped across him, their head burrowed into Sam’s neck, and half of their body covering his torso. Whoever it was, smelled amazing; like chocolate, popcorn and all of the other good things that Sam remembered from summer when he was a kid. It was familiar, and almost comforting—a missing piece slotting into place. Sam kept his eyes firmly shut as he nuzzled his companion’s head and breathed in their perfect, delectable scent.

Letting out a soft hum of contentment, Sam felt strong fingers grip into the flesh of his shoulder as hair tickled his nose. The hard length of someone else’s dick pressed firmly into his thigh and Sam finally forced his eyes open to peer down at the man wrapped around him. Gabriel looked so different in sleep, his face relaxed, his mouth open, as soft snores escaped those tempting pink lips. It was absolutely adorable and Sam instinctively ran his palm down the curve of Gabriel’s spine. The motion caused Gabe to wiggle his hips slightly, rutting into Sam a few times, and suddenly Sam was hard as well.

He closed his eyes again, and shifted his body so that they were lying face to face under the covers. Sam’s hand wandered down until it rested on Gabriel’s hip. Allowing himself to take just a little, Sam dipped his head so that their lips were almost brushing as he pushed his own erection against Gabe. A tingling burst of pleasure shot through him as their clothed dicks rubbed together and Sam gasped, his eyes flying open. Much to his surprise, Gabriel was awake and watching him with a sly smirk. When Sam stopped moving, Gabe leaned in and pressed their lips together and began to grind into Sam.

His mouth accepted the intrusion of Gabe’s kisses and soon enough they were practically making out, their boxers briefs damp with precome as they took pleasure at waking up in each other’s arms. 

“You know,” Dean’s voice broke through their haze of lust. “We’re still here, Sammy. Which means that Cas and I can hear you.”

“What is more problematic,” Cas replied. “Is that we can see you.”

Gabriel pulled back with a groan, and popped his head over the blankets to glare at their brothers perched on the worn sofa. “You always cock block me, Cassie—it’s a bad habit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cas said primly.

“Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t want to see you dry hump the leprechaun. Can we get up and get a move on? I want to get to the cabin before noon.”

He grit his teeth, his face flushed with embarrassment as Gabriel’s dirty smile made his stomach flutter. How could he have forgotten about their brothers being in the room? “To be continued, kiddo,” Gabriel whispered before he hopped out of bed and bounced into the bathroom.

Rubbing his eyes, Sam sat up in the bed, determinedly keeping the blankets bunches over him so that Dean wouldn’t see his raging morning wood and make fun of him even more. As he watched his brother and Cas bicker good-naturedly as they drank coffee, Sam realized that he didn’t have anything to worry about. Dean didn’t even seem to notice that anyone was in the room except for Castiel. It was beyond weird for his brother to let his guard down with anyone—much less a Novak. Maybe it was the pretty blue eyes and thick black lashes and obvious sex hair that the youngest Novak was sporting? Sam chuckled to himself—Dean  _ did  _ have a type after all.

“It’s almost seven in the morning, Dean,” Cas was saying. “We still have at least six hours until we reach Angel’s Breath. There is no way we will arrive before noon.”

“I don’t exactly plan on driving the speed limit,” Dean chuckled. 

“That’s a good way to get pulled over,” Cas raised a challenging eyebrow, and Sam had to hide a smile at the way Dean went red. “Not all of us have the luxury of flashing Federal identification and getting sent on our way. When you’re operating in grey areas, you play it safe.”

“So you drive like an old lady, Cas?”

“I do  _ nothing  _ like an old lady, Dean. If you knew me better you would be well aware of that.”

Something about Cas’ tone broke no argument, and Dean’s blush became even more pronounced as he fidgeted in his seat. Sam snorted a laugh when he realized he was in no danger of being teased for his boner, when it was obvious Dean now had to deal with his own.

“Rise and Samshine,” Gabriel practically shouted as he popped out of the bathroom, dressed in his clothes from yesterday, and looking ready to go. “Your turn,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Sam had to physically look away at Gabriel’s words and what he  _ knew  _ they were implying. He shuffled to his bag and grabbed some fresh clothes before bolting into the bathroom and locking the door. 

As he splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth, he could hear the other three talking outside. Now that the haze of his half-awake, morning, dry-hump was gone, Sam suddenly had the worst feeling. He couldn’t place why or what had sparked the unease, but something was telling him that they needed to get on the road—pronto. 

The need to rush, had him swapping out his undershirt and boxer briefs for fresh, as well as a worn pair of jeans and his favorite flannel. His off-duty attire, while simple, would blend much better than the designer suit in a town such as Angel’s Breath. With the comforting weight of the thin, soft flannel on his shoulders, Sam exited the bathroom and threw his things into the small bag, zipping it closed. “We should get going,” he said. 

Dean looked at him oddly, still drinking his coffee flavored swill, while Gabriel seemed to be watching him with concern. Neither of them said a word. From the window, Castiel spoke up, as he held the curtain apart and scanned the lot. “Sam’s correct. We need to leave.”

“Fine,” Dean said. “Grab your stuff and let’s head out.” He gulped down the rest of his coffee and crumpled the small styrofoam cup. “Cas, give Sam your keys.”

Everyone froze and stared at the statement. “What?” Sam was the first to find his voice.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “What do you mean, ‘give my keys to Sam?’”

Gabriel’s eyes were bouncing between the other three as Dean pulled on his brown leather jacket. “We can’t leave your Lexus here,” Dean pointed out. “Someone has to drive it.”

“I fail to understand why I cannot drive my own vehicle,” Cas crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. 

“Because you don’t know where the safe house is,” Dean said. “And I’m not about to tell you and leave you out of my sight to call for backup.”

“You still don’t trust me.” It was a statement, and Cas rubbed at his temple and sighed as he spoke.

“Don’t take it personal,” Sam looked over at Castiel. “Sometimes Dean doesn’t trust me either.” He looked at his brother, who was scuffing his boots on the carpet, looking ashamed. It wasn’t a normal expression for Dean, and Sam chalked it up to the whole situation being a great big ball of weird. “How do you want to split up?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ll take Cas in Baby,” he said. “You and the hobbit can take the Lexus. Gives me a chance to have a few Gabriel-Free hours today.”

“You know what?” Gabe said. “Normally I’d be offended, but I happen to like hobbits, so what-the-fuck-ever.”

“You sure?” Sam eyed his brother. 

“Yeah.” They all began to move toward the door before Dean held up a finger and pointed it between Sam and Gabriel. “No funny business either, you two. Don’t stop for a quickie and no fucking road-head. Just...get to the cabin.”

“How dare you,” Gabe said in a falsetto. “I am a classy boy—I don’t give road-head!” He turned and wiggled his eyebrows at Sam. “Unless that turns you on, kiddo.”

Sam could feel himself go bright red as he sputtered and Dean snapped, “Knock it off, Novak!”

“Gabriel, please try to restrain yourself,” Cas added with a sigh. 

“I’ll do my best baby bro,” Gabe rolled his eyes. “You know I have to make up for you being the unfun one though.”

“Let’s just  _ go _ ,” Sam sputtered finally as he took the keys Castiel offered him, as he dashed out the door. 

The morning sun was warm on his skin, as he stomped across the lot to the Lexus that he hadn’t noticed the previous evening. Now that it was daylight, the luxury car stood out amongst the few clunkers in the lot. “Sammy,” Dean called just as he was about to get into the Impala.

“Yeah?” Sam paused next to the car, Gabe bouncing on his heels by the passenger door.

“Try not to make any stops, and get there in one piece, you got me?”

Sam nodded. “You too.”

“Be safe,” Dean said, sliding into his precious car and shutting the door before Sam could respond. 

“Will do,” he muttered sourly to himself.

As Gabriel joined him, buckling in, he smiled over at Sam and said, “At least our road trip won’t be super lame,” he said, as they watched the Impala peel out onto the road, throwing dust.

“Yeah, and why is that?” Sam turned the key and the engine purred. 

“Because we’re the fun ones,” Gabe said firmly. “Dean seems like a drag, no offense.”

“None taken,” Sam bit down a smile as he pulled out of the lot, slowly and carefully, watching both directions of traffic.

“And, don’t get me wrong, I love Cassie,” Gabe settled back into the seat and began poking at the radio which was tuned to a nature podcast. “But he’s got a massive stick up his ass. On his twenty-first birthday he stayed at home, had one glass of wine and made me watch a film with subtitles.”

“Poor you,” Sam chuckled. 

“There was no sex, no violence,” Gabe moaned dramatically. “It was two plus hours of some French guy whining about his life and chain smoking.”

“Oh,” Sam smiled. “I wanted to see that one,” he teased.

Gabriel playfully smacked his arm. “He even sent the stripper I hired away. Told the kid to pursue his dreams, handed him about six grand in cash and shooed him out the door! He was the cutest little twink too, dressed like a hot dog vendor. I mean, who does that? Who turns down a cute stripper on their twenty-first?”

“Apparently Cas,” Sam said. “I probably would have too, though.”

With a theatrical gasp, Gabe slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s terrible, Sam-a-lam! You don’t like strippers?”

“Not particularly,” Sam shrugged. “Although, if  _ you  _ wanted to do a private show for me, I can guarantee that I’ll enjoy it.”

“Damn right you would,” Gabriel muttered. 

They continued on their way, Sam driving the route by memory. The chatter became banter, which then turned into some rather lewd flirting on both sides. The road bumped beneath their tires as they covered as much ground as they could without breaking too many speed laws. Thankfully, Gabriel found a stash of candy bars in the glovebox, so Sam was spared the hunger whining from the previous day. 

“Cassie always keeps these around for me,” Gabriel said through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel. “He knows I get hangry without my sugar.”

Sam briefly took his eyes off the road as Gabriel shoved the remainder of the candy bar into his mouth, chewing like a squirrel, as he immediately unwrapped a second treat.

“Slow down,” Sam said. “You could choke if I have to stop suddenly.”

“I trust you not to kill me,” Gabe mumbled through the candy, smiling at Sam with his cheeks packed full of sugar. 

“So the average adult human is sixty percent water,” Sam said casually. “Maybe you’re like, sixty percent sugar instead.”

Gabriel took the time to swallow his treat before sticking his tongue out at Sam. “Well at least my jizz tastes good,” he commented. 

With a jolt, Sam jerked the wheel at Gabe’s comment. Looking down at the dash, he could see that they should probably fill the Lexus’ tank, and in an effort to change the subject, he stammered, “Gotta stop for gas!”

“I’m just saying,” Gabriel said, as Sam took the next exit. “You eat all that healthy crap, you might taste like kale—which despite what all those celebrities say, isn’t a good thing, Samalicious.”

“I don’t taste like kale,” Sam snorted. “And you’re wrong, kale is packed full of nutrients that—“

“Be that as it may, it tastes like dirt and cyanide.”

“What?”

“It’s just bad,” Gabe insisted. “Fuck, I hope you don’t taste like dirt.”

“I don’t.”

“Only one way to be sure.”

Sam stopped the car in what seemed to be a run-down deserted gas station. He turned to glare at Gabriel, who was just smiling wickedly at him. “I thought you were too classy for road-head,” Sam snorted, throwing Gabe’s own words back at him.

“I am,” Gabriel clicked his tongue. “But I might make an exception for you.”

Without a response, Sam got out of the car and began the process of filling the tank, with one of the cards issued to him under an alias. As the numbers began to climb, indicating how much gas he was purchasing, Sam looked around the small gas station with interest. Despite the year, this place looked like it had been built in the fifties and abandoned soon afterward. Two pumps, the old fashioned, cylindrical kind. Behind them, the store looked to be rather small, the building almost swallowed up by the surrounding vegetation. Through the dusty glass, Sam could see a few displays of snacks and a cooler with cold drinks. Only one guy seemed to be behind the counter. 

“Samalicious,” Gabe hissed through the open window, startling him. “Are you as delicious as you look, or should I prepare for disappointment?”

Bending down, Sam looked through the window, and saw that Gabe had unbuckled himself and was leaning over into Sam’s side of the car, his palms flat on the driver’s seat as he fake whispered. “Delicious Samalicious,” it sounded like a horrible little song and Sam rolled his eyes. 

“You get weirder the longer I know you,” he said, feigning irritation.

“Just wait until we’re married,” Gabriel joked.

Chuckling, Sam turned back to the pump, concentrating on finishing their transaction. He opened the car door and got in, only to notice that Gabriel was no longer there.

The sickening rush of panic flooded his system and Sam jumped out of the car and began to look around the area—every sense in him, on high alert. “Gabriel,” he shouted. No response. Fuck, Sam felt sick. What the hell had happened? Was it Ketch? 

He was just about to reach the pinnacle of terror, as he debated about calling Dean, when the station’s door opened and Gabriel sauntered out with a small paper bag clutched in his hand. He was whistling a nineties boy band song and grinning. Sam wanted to punch the smirk off of his gorgeous face. 

Sam raced around the car and grabbed the smaller man, yanking him into a tight hug. “Woah, kiddo—you okay?”

“No,” he snapped, pulling away to look Gabriel in the eye. “I’m not okay at all. We are in a dangerous fucking position, and you take off while my back is turned?”

“I was just—“

“Gabe,” Sam interrupted. “I thought Ketch had you.”

Before his eyes, Gabriel’s face morphed from cocky amusement to genuine remorse. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t even think, honestly.”

“I know,” Sam said. “Thinking isn’t your strong suit, is it?” He tried for levity, to show that while he’d been worried, that he was also forgiving.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gabriel said, sliding back into his usual demeanor. He opened the paper bag and gave Sam a peek. There was a small package of condoms inside. “Sometimes I have strokes of genius, kiddo.”

Sam grinned. “We can definitely put those to use tonight. The cabin has a few bedrooms, so we can finally get some privacy.”

“Tonight?” Gabe scoffed. He spun in a circle, arms wide. “We got plenty of privacy right here.”

“Gabe? No.”

“Sam? Yes.”

They stared at one another for a moment, each trying to will the other to their side, without words. Sam looked desperate and pleading, while Gabriel was grinning devilishly and nodding. The silent battle ceased once Gabe licked his lips and Sam was done for. “Fine,” he hissed. “But we have to be quick about this.”

Pumping his fist in the air, Gabriel pointed toward the side of the lot where there was a patch of towering trees. “Bring the car over there,” he directed. “Back it in, and meet me.” He turned and practically skipped away as Sam huffed and went to move the Lexus. From the gas station window, the lone guy behind the counter gave Sam a thumbs up when their eyes met. Super. The attendant knew exactly what they were doing. 

Exhibitionism was about as far from Sam’s kink as possible, but as he backed the Lexus up to the grove of trees, he felt the curl of lust in his belly. Just thinking about the man inside who knew that he and Gabe were up to something sexy, had Sam’s dick twitching in anticipation.

Doing his best to look in control, Sam shut off the car and met Gabriel near the closest tree. “Kiddo,” Gabe’s eyes raked over him. “You look good enough to eat.” He watched as Gabriel deftly popped open the trunk before placing his hands on Sam’s waist and guiding him over. “Which is why I don’t plan to wait any longer for a taste.”

Sam allowed Gabriel to push him down until he was sitting on the edge of the trunk, his long legs spread wide, Gabriel wedged between them, playing with the zipper of Sam’s jeans. “What do you say?” 

“Please,” Sam managed to grunt. The feather light touches were driving him mad and he was fully hard in his pants. “Please Gabriel, touch me. Please.” Sam had never been needy enough to beg, but something about Gabriel Novak tore down all of his walls and previous hang-ups.

The slick slide of his zipper had Sam’s breathing pick up. His eyes flicked up from where Gabe was reaching into his pants and their eyes met. Without a thought, Sam surged forward and captured Gabe in a hard, sloppy kiss. By the time they broke apart, both of them had their pants open, and their dicks out. Somewhere though the haze, Sam knew that this was a terrible idea—but there was no way in hell that he was going to stop now.

He felt Gabe’s hands on him, and looked down to see the condom being rolled onto his cock. Gabriel was hard too, the tip of his obviously enormous dick poking out of his pants, as he focused his attention on Sam. Holy crap—Gabe looked so much larger than he’d felt earlier. 

Once the condom was in place, Gabe pulled him in for a wet, desperate kiss, before dropping to his knees in the dirt. A quick glance around them showed that between the foliage and the open trunk, they were rather well concealed. Just as Sam looked down at Gabe, his lover sucked him in, pulling Sam deep into his throat in one fluid motion. He almost lost it right then, a hoarse scream burst from him, and Sam shoved his fist into his mouth and bit down on his own knuckles. 

“Oh my god,” Sam removed his fist and moaned as Gabriel bobbed his head, licking and sucking wherever he could reach.

With a loud pop, Gabe pulled off, and eyed Sam with an odd look. “Can we leave my dad out of our sex life?” It was said with a teasing lilt, but Sam knew that it wasn't entirely a joke. He didn’t blame Gabe one bit—he wouldn’t want someone to moan his parents name during sex either. “Fuck, sorry Gabe.”

“No worries, kiddo,” Gabe patted Sam’s hip and swallowed him down once more. 

He could feel the pressure building as Gabriel expertly pleasured him. The coiled, dangerous feeling in his gut was building and Sam knew that he was close. By now, he was incoherently babbling as he leaned against a luxury car, in public, as he got the best blowjob he’d ever received, from a man that he might accidentally have fallen for. Sam’s eyes slid open and he looked down to see that Gabriel was sucking him deeply, and stroking Sam with one hand as he used his other to jerk himself off. The hand moving in Gabe’s own pants at a furious pace captured his attention. The idea that going down on Sam was so erotic, that Gabriel was also getting off from it, had Sam shouting and spilling his release.

As the warm rush of cum flooded into the condom, Gabriel continued to suck on him until Sam was no longer shaking from pleasure. When he could finally open his eyes again, he looked down to see Gabriel carefully removing the full prophylactic from Sam and grinning up at him. As Sam realized that Gabriel was also soft, a large pool of cum in the dirt beneath him, Sam almost got hard again. Gabriel chuckled when his dick twitched and pulled himself to his feet, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of Sam’s lips.

“You taste good kiddo,” Gabe said. 

He was coherent enough to roll his eyes as he said, “Condom. You didn’t taste a thing.”

Gabe grinned and tapped the side of his nose as he winked. “I used my imagination. Besides, once we’re both tested, I’m gonna swallow you bare and I’ll bet a thousand bucks you taste as good as I imagine—especially since I’ve probably scared you into eating pineapple or something so you don’t have kale jizz.”

Groaning, Sam pushed himself off of the trunk and tucked himself back in. He gripped his duffel bag from the back where he had tossed it and pulled out a few disposable wet wipes. “Seriously?” Gabriel looked at him oddly as he used one to clean himself off. “Why do you have these?”

Sam laughed as he got rid of his own mess. “Go out and have ribs with Dean, and tell me that I don’t need to carry these.”

“Ahhh,” Gabe nodded. “He eats like he’s the star of Jurassic Park?”

“Exactly,” Sam took Gabe’s cloth and the used condom. There was a rusted metal trash can nearby and he tossed away their trash before pulling Gabe flush to his chest. “That was amazing,” Sam whispered as he leaned down and kissed the shorter man. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed softly. “It really was.”

“We have to get on the road. Dean will flip if we’re too far behind them,” Sam said. They split up and crawled back into the Lexus, turning the key and pulling out of the lot. 

Still feeling dizzy from the high of his orgasm, Sam adjusted himself in his pants and got back on the highway. They drove along, Gabriel keeping up a steady stream of random conversation, which was pulling Sam in, far deeper than he’d ever intended. The only difference now, were their hands linked together, resting on Sam’s thigh as he drove. Every mile that they clocked, had Sam losing himself in the soft touch of their fingers. He wanted to get used to the feel of Gabriel’s hand in his own—he wanted to feel the touch of Gabe’s uncalloused hand for the rest of his life. 

As he realized that he had passed the point of no return in this whirlwind of a relationship, Sam found that he had no regrets. Not a single one. As he focused on the road ahead, he gave Gabriel’s hand a light squeeze, which got him a beaming smile from his passenger. He could see their surroundings as they drove passed, but most of Sam’s attention was on the man at his side, and the feel of their linked fingers. Right then, in that moment, Sam was content with his lot in life. 

Twenty minutes later, they hit the city limits of Angel’s Breath and maneuvered around some of the tourist traffic toward the other side of the lake where Crowley was waiting at their safe house. Gabriel pointed out a few places that he remembered from his summer in the town, but he refused to tell Sam why he and his brothers had even been there. 

Soon enough, Sam spotted their prearranged meeting place for whenever they had to arrive at the cabin separately. Dean had parked the Impala in a small scenic overlook, and was leaning against the car, arms crossed, scowling into the sun. Off to the side, Castiel was peering into the metal viewfinders out over Angel’s Breath Lake, his trench coat billowing around his legs in the light breeze.

Pulling into the adjacent space, Sam cut the engine and wiped his hands on his jeans before following Gabriel out of the car. Cas abandoned his viewfinder and wandered over as Sam and Gabe approached the Impala.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean grumbled. “Cas and I have been waiting here for almost half an hour. Did you stop to fuck in the back of the car, or something?”

He could tell that Dean was mostly teasing, but the fact that the jab was almost spot on had both him and Gabriel glancing at one another before quickly looking away. Dean was oblivious, but Castiel tilted his head and stared uncomfortably at them for a long moment. 

“We stopped for gas, Dean,” Sam grumbled. “Anyway, we’re here now. Have you talked to Crowley?”

“Yeah, he’s expecting us,” Dean nodded. “He turned off the electric fence, and disabled the road spikes about five minutes ago. Which means, we have another five to get our asses up to the cabin before he reactivates everything.”

“What are we doing standing here?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

They all piled back into the vehicles, and pulled out of the overlook, headed half a mile down the road toward their safe house. “We stopped for gas?” Gabriel said with amusement, his eyes twinkling.

“It wasn’t a lie,” Sam shot back. 

Gabriel hummed. “True. Though I think Cassie’s on to us. I’ll probably get a lecture about ‘befouling his vehicle,’ later.”

“As long as Dean doesn’t find out, we’re fine. Take your lecture like a big boy,” Sam teased.

“I  _ am _ a big boy, kiddo,” Gabe said lecherously. 

“I’m aware,” Sam chuckled, while at the same time, he did his best to not get turned on...again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Anyone who met Fergus Crowley could tell that he was a powerful man. At the very least, he gave off the air of someone who knew how to wield power to their own advantage. The talent had served him well as he climbed the ranks in the Bureau, finally achieving one of the highest positions in the field. He was running his own team, a team that he’d handpicked out of the best and the brightest. If those talents happened to be in his very best friend, then so be it. 

He and Dean were practically family at this rate. He knew the only person that Dean trusted more was his brother Sam. And honestly, Crowley would trust Sam with his life as well. He and the Winchesters were thick as thieves, and then some. Brought together by not only their careers, but through loss and the unquenchable thirst for revenge.

As though it were yesterday, he could remember the first time that Dean had dragged him home to his Uncle Bobby’s for the holidays. They’d been working together for almost a year, and got on well enough. Happy hours, wingmanning for the other, the occasional karaoke night (which was their shameful secret)—he and Dean were  _ friends _ . And that night when he’d received the call from  _ his _ superior. Without a question, Dean had paid their tab and driven Crowley back to headquarters. He’d stood next to him in the morgue as Crowley identified the body of his niece. And he hadn’t said a word when Crowley actually broke down in sobs for the first time in his life. 

His precious Abaddon. All fiery red hair and the usual teenage bitchiness. She had been all of sixteen, and loved to tell Crowley that he was ‘ruining her life,’ with his stricter than average rules. After her parent’s death in a boating accident when she was seven, he’d raised her as his own. Despite their constant snark, he knew that his niece loved him—and she had been his whole world. Right up until the day that Arthur Ketch, on Chuck Novak’s orders, had killed her. 

One of her weird little goth friends had acquired tickets to an underground band called ‘ _ Satan’s Panties,’ _ of all things. It was in an eighteen and up club, so Crowley hadn’t given his permission. She went anyway, and he knew that she would. Usually he made a big deal when she snuck out of the house or skipped curfew, but he figured that she was sixteen and he should try to give some leeway. Dean always said that Crowley kept Abaddon under rules meant for a six year old; and Dean knew it because he’d done the same thing to his little brother. “We’ll go out, have a couple drinks and be ready in case she needs you,” Dean had persuaded. “She’s almost an adult, she needs some time for her own thing, and you know it.”

Reluctantly, Crowley agreed. He knew that Dean blamed himself for Abaddon being there, blaming himself for what happened to her—how she died. Crowley didn’t. Not one bit. Dean may have argued for her freedom, but the choice was ultimately Crowley’s—the blame was all on him. And Arthur Fucking Ketch.

After Abaddon’s funeral, Crowley had some of her ashes made into a large ruby that he mounted on a signet ring, which he never removed—and he threw himself into his work. When the opportunity arose to go after the Novaks, he persuaded his best tech, Charlie Bradbury, to alter his and the Winchester’s files. Despite the illegality, Charlie was morally fine with erasing the connections so that ‘her boys,’ could go after Chuck and his lackeys. Charlie was a big believer in karma, and also closure. 

By the time the Christmas season was in full swing, Dean had threatened Crowley with bodily harm to accompany him and Sam home for the holidays. He’d always found it amusing that Dean ‘Denial’ Winchester was the one who’d finally confronted him about healthy grieving. It was ironic and absurd. After a few days of grumbling, and a dose of Sam’s puppy dog eyes, Crowley found himself at Singer Salvage, meeting the man who’d raised his best agents...his friends. 

It was a lovely Christmas, despite the fact that he and Bobby Singer didn’t get along. After a while, they just needled one another for entertainment value. Crowley was grateful that Dean hadn’t allowed him to wallow through the holidays. On December twenty-sixth, they’d packed up and headed back to work, all of them with a newfound purpose. 

And now, here they were; what seemed like a lifetime later, and they were so  _ close _ . As he sat in an overstuffed chair by the poor excuse of a fireplace, Crowley examined his ring, rubbing the stone. “We’ve almost got him, Princess.” At the sound of his voice, the Anatolian Shepherd at his feet, looked up at him, awaiting a command.

“Good girl, Juliet,” Crowley smiled at his trained guard dog, and stroked the light fur on her massive head. She settled at the touch, and sat quietly next to him, only her ears betrayed her alertness.

Despite the hour, Crowley took a sip of the Craig scotch he’d poured for himself, and waited. The boys should be arriving any time, with the Novak brat, and perhaps they could salvage what was left of their slightly blown op. He’d researched Gabriel plenty in the last twelve hours, thanks to Charlie’s incredible hacking skills, and Crowley didn’t quite know what to think about God’s middle angel. He just hoped that his boys hadn’t done anything stupid. Well, at least not anything worse than they already had. They were on Plan D for Dumbass now.

The sound of a car pulling up outside, gave him a moment of relief—until a second car joined, and Crowley’s muscles tensed. Two cars? There was no need. That meant someone else was here—someone uninvited. Calmly, Crowley reached into his suit jacket and removed his piece. He took another fortifying drink, before resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, aimed at the door. “Juliet,” his tone was unmistakable. “ _ Coimhead _ .”

The enormous canine, stood next to her master, poised and ready, the entire focus of her being on the front door. The sound of steps on the dilapidated front porch, had Crowley listening intently. The moment he counted four sets, Crowley knew that something was wrong. 

The rattle of the key indicated that at least one of the Winchesters was outside. Now, the only question Crowley had was, were the Winchesters under some sort of coercion, or were they just absolute bloody morons?

The door swung open, and Sam walked in, chatting with a blonde man, about the same build as Crowley, who looked as though he was about thirty litres of trouble. His eyes narrowed as Crowley took in the man that was most definitely Gabriel Novak. Stupendous. 

Neither of them had noticed him or Juliet, when a third man entered the cabin. The dark, messy hair, broad shoulders encased in that fashion-failure tan coat, the icy eyes—there was no mistaking who this man was at all. Crowley’s nostrils flared in rage as Castiel Novak, the youngest son of God, and a rumored psychotic, walked into their safe house.

Just as Dean walked through the threshold, Crowley’s eyes met Castiel’s, and both men knew they’d been made. Without a thought beyond protecting himself and his friends, Crowley shouted, “Juliet,  _ thoir ionnsaigh _ !”

The hundred and thirty pound Shepard launched, jaws open, in the direction of Castiel, whose eyes went wide in undisguised terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juliet's Commands  
> *Watch—Scottish Gaelic   
> coimhead {verb masculine }  
> to observe; to look at for a period of time.  
> *Attack—Scottish Gaelic   
> thoir ionnsaigh {verb }  
> to aggressively challenge with words; to apply violent force.


	10. Slash Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a fantastic bestie, and the Novaks try mac'n'cheese from a box for the first time. Also, Gabe finally gets to tap that Moose!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Sexy Times

All that Dean could do was react. He shoved Castiel out of the way, and blocked him from Juliet’s intimidating maw. “ _ Stad _ !” Dean shouted.

Juliet dropped to the ground, head lowered submissively at the command. “Good girl,” Dean reached down and scratched her behind the ears. 

By now, Crowley was on his feet, his gum raised, pointed just beyond Dean toward Cas. He was glaring, and Dean could tell that his friend was barely containing his rage. “Care to explain what God’s Little Soldier is doing here?” Crowley’s jaw was set. “I was aware of one Novak— _ not  _ two.”

“You must be Crowley,” Cas said calmly, as though he hadn’t been scared out of his wits moments ago. 

Dean flinched under his superior’s glare. “Just running around, giving my name out to the Novaks? I thought you were smarter than that, Squirrel.”

“Hey,” Gabriel snapped, surprising everyone. “ _ You  _ were the one who wanted to see  _ me _ . I can’t help it if my bro decides to tag along to make sure you don’t chain me up in your basement.”

Rolling his eyes, Crowley lowered his gun and said, “I would  _ never _ .”

“You give off that kind of vibe,” Gabriel said. “You know... _ creepy _ .”

Next to him, Sam snorted, and Dean glared at them both. “Relax man,” he said. “Cas is cool. He wants to help.”

“Really?” Dean knew when Crowley didn’t believe him.

“I don’t know what you know of me personally, but neither Gabriel or myself condone our father’s work,” Cas stepped around Dean, but shifted toward the wall when Juliet growled lowly at him.

“Damn straight,” Gabe muttered.

“There is a reason that I never progressed from the Head of Security to my father’s personal guard,” Castiel said. “Not only did I express distaste at what was required, I also don’t think that father trusted me.”

“So you are aware of the kinds of things your father and brother get up to?” Crowley looked less than pleased. 

With a short nod, Cas moved to step further into the cabin while Dean shut the front door behind them. “Did you reactivate the security?” He looked at his boss.

Crowley rolled his eyes, but he whistled, causing Juliet to jump up and trot after him as he went to the hidden panel to punch in the codes that would put the system back online. Dean and Sam guided their respective Novaks to the various pieces of furniture around the crackling fire, so that by the time Crowley returned, they were all beginning to settle in. Dean was pleased to see that Crowley had re-holstered his gun upon his return. 

He oozed into the room and claimed his earlier seat before meeting Dean’s eyes. As the two of them held a silent conversation, Juliet reappeared as well. However, she didn’t trail after her master as she usually did. Juliet wandered over to the long sofa where Gabriel and Sam were seated. In the blink of an eye, she’d jumped up onto the couch in between the two men, her large face turned directly at Gabe as she leaned into his personal space.

“Um,” Gabriel sounded rather squeaky as he spoke up. “Could you get the Hellhound away from me? I think she wants to eat me.”

“That’s because you smell like food all the time,” Sam laughed. 

“I do not,” Gabe shouted indignantly as Juliet moved even closer before she licked his head with her oversized tongue. They all stared as she continued to lick Gabriel as though he was a puppy, messing up his hair until he looked as though he’d been standing in a wind tunnel. “Sam,” he stage-whispered. “She’s eating me!”

“Juliet,” Crowley finally called in a sing-song. “Come to Papa.” Immediately, the dog stopped lavishing affection on Gabriel and hopped down, taking a seat next to Crowley’s chair. 

“Not a dog person?” Dean snarked, knowing that Sam was a sucker for animals.

“I love dogs,” Gabriel replied. “But did you see her go for Cassie? I mean, I’m just a little wary, I guess.”

Dean narrowed his eyes as he watched Sam sling an arm around Gabe, pulling him close. “Juliet is a good girl,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

Gabe made a disbelieving humming sound and leaned into Sam, which rubbed Dean the wrong way. His little brother wasn’t usually this much of a sucker. Sure, so far Gabe and Cas seemed to be decent human beings, and had offered to help them, but that didn’t mean Sam should be dropping his guard so quickly. Blind trust wasn’t like Sam, and it made Dean a little uneasy. It wasn’t like  _ Dean _ at all either, but  _ he  _ was being totally professional with Cas. He wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at him or spending every second thinking about how those pink lips and day old stubble would feel. No, he was not! Because he knew better, and he could control himself, unlike Sammy apparently. 

Glowering across the room at his brother and Gabriel, Dean pointedly ignored the fact that both Castiel and Crowley were eyeing him. Sam and Gabe seemed oblivious as they spoke to one another in hushed tones. Come to think of it, Dean also didn’t like the way that those two had looked when they finally showed up at the meeting point; all rumpled close and messy sex hair. Dean wasn’t stupid, he knew that something had happened between Sam and Gabriel beyond ‘stopping for gas.’

“Sammy,” he barked. “How about waiting until we’re off the clock to get laid?”

It was no surprise to Dean that his brother shot him an epic bitch-face for his comment. “Like you should talk,” Sam said. “You’re the one who’s always picking up—“

“So now that Ketch is on our tail, what course do you want to take?” Dean cut his brother off and addressed their boss. 

With a calculating look, Crowley watched both brothers for a moment before turning his attention to Dean. “Before I leave a trail of breadcrumbs for our stoic friend over there,” Crowley jerked his head toward Castiel. “I want to know that he’s with us.”

“Trust me, Cas is cool,” Dean waved his hand.

“Now, now, Dean,” Crowley said firmly. “We’ve all worked too hard for this to be taken down because you’re thinking with your dangly bits. Though I’ll admit, I  _ do  _ understand what you see in those gorgeous blue eyes.” Dean could feel his face heat as Crowley smirked and continued. “Forgive me, if I don’t accept Casanova here at face value.”

“If I may,” Cas spoke up. “For some inexplicable reason, my brother has taken a liking to Sam. Since he has never shown regard for our father, or Grace, I am certain that he will be doing what he can to help you with ‘the takedown.’” 

Dean ducked his head to hide his laugh when Cas used those damn quote fingers again. For someone so well-spoken, and obviously able to handle themselves, the poor guy seemed awkward as fuck when it came to normal conversations and social niceties. It was freaking adorable. The thought made Dean immediately still. He could feel the tension coursing through his body as the full force of how  _ gone _ he was, finally made itself clear. He had to resist the urge to facepalm. What the hell was he thinking, falling for the slightly dorky, yet deadly, Novak brother? Smooth, Dean. Fuck, he was a moron. 

By the time he pulled himself under control, Crowley was nodding along with Castiel, who was reiterating that he would stand by Gabriel’s side no matter what. Apparently it was convincing enough for their boss, because the next thing out of Crowley’s mouth was, “Superb.” 

“At this time, my loyalty extends only to Gabriel,” Cas said. “I have no issues with helping you go for Lucifer or our father. Especially after I know what he has done to the Winchesters.”

“Not just us, Cas,” Sam said softly. 

Both Novaks looked at Sam before turning their attention to Crowley. “Ah, fuck,” Gabe groaned. “Who did our dear old dad kill to send you out on a roaring rampage of revenge?”

Sam elbowed him in the ribs as Castiel groaned, “Tact, Gabriel. Tact.”

“Charming,” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “To answer your question, I lost my teenage niece to your family and Arthur Ketch.” Gabriel immediately sobered. “She was a spitfire, and a typically annoying sixteen year old who snuck out to go to a concert. On the way back home, she walked past a house—the wrong house, it turned out. She accidentally witnessed Ketch completing a ‘job’ for your father. Since I’m sure you’re both aware of his policy on witnesses, I assume you know what happened next.” The room was heavy with horror and stillness as Crowley took a deep drink of his scotch before continuing. “I had to identify her body since I was her guardian. Ketch slit her throat so deeply that I could see her bloody spine. My beautiful girl,” Crowley whispered. 

There was a painfully drawn out silence before Cas asked, “What was her name?”

“Abaddon,” Crowley smiled when he said her name. Dean could practically feel his friend’s pain. It gutted him too, he’d known the girl, watched her grow up, helped Crowley scare her Prom Date—he’d loved her too, in his own way. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “Truly. I’m sorry.”

Crowley just nodded and waved him off, taking another fortifying gulp of burning liquor. “I’ll get justice for her,” Crowley said. “Soon.”

“I want to help,” Gabriel said, surprising Dean with his serious tone and conviction. “Anything I can do.”

“That goes for me as well,” Castiel added. “Gabriel and I want to help you find closure for your loved ones. If we can ease the pain of your loss in any way, we shall.”

“There’s just one itty bitty problem,” Gabriel broke in, holding up a finger.

“Yeah? Of course there’s strings attached for you,  _ Gabriel _ ,” Dean grumbled. 

“Dean,” Sam sighed. He turned to Gabe next to him and asked, “What’s the issue, babe?”

As Dean tried not to roll his eyes at Sam’s whipped state, Gabriel and Cas exchanged looks that were clearly a silent conversation. “He means that I could be in trouble as well for my actions as a Grace employee.”

“We can get you immunity,” Dean said in a rush. He turned to Crowley, “You can get him immunity right? We can help. Cas won’t go to jail.” It was said in a growled statement, that no one would contradict.

Dean shifted on the balls of his feet as he watched Crowley consider things. His boss’ scrutinizing glare fixed on the youngest Novak. For his part, Cas remained motionless, his face a total blank, betraying nothing. The minutes ticked by and Dean was about to start yelling when Crowley finally hummed. “I don’t see why immunity would be so difficult to acquire for you, providing that you never directly committed murder or something else, equally nasty.”

“I cannot guarantee anything,” Castiel said honestly. “I’ve worked for my father my entire life, and while I have refused certain tasks, I also excelled at following orders.”

“Cassie likes to stick his head in the sand,” Gabriel said flippantly, though there was an undercurrent of bitterness. 

“If we find something, there’s no guarantee,” Crowley trailed off. “You’re still willing to help?” It was clear from his tone that he expected a negative response, Dean knew that his boss was going to be surprised.

The Novak brothers looked at each other and Gabriel gave a short nod before Cas turned back to Crowley. “Yes. I will help you, regardless.”

Dean hid his laughter at Crowley’s expression, but their superior managed to get his features under control relatively quickly. “Fine,” he said. “Looks like we need to make some plans.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the five of them pouring over case files, blueprints, and security schedules, among other things. Gabriel busied himself keeping the drinks flowing for everyone, but he was surprisingly knowledgeable about certain aspects of Chuck’s life that even Cas wasn’t privy to. The short blonde said it came from a lifetime of being a ‘nosey little shit,’ but Dean could hear the deeper pain that Gabe’s flippant remarks covered. The guy just wanted to be close to his dad and brother, so he basically stalked them. It was creepy, but also understandable in Dean’s opinion.

It was nearing evening when Gabriel finally whined enough that Sam insisted on a break. The two lovebirds went into the kitchen to raid the pantry with Juliet following them, thick tail wagging happily. Dean was going to try and get Cas alone for a few minutes, but his plans were derailed by Crowley clearing his throat pointedly and looking between them.

“I believe your boss wishes to speak to you alone,” Castiel said. “I will give you some privacy and check on my brother and Samuel.” He stood and walked out of the room, without looking back. 

“Away flies the little bird,” Crowley said, as he stood abruptly and motioned toward the back door of the cabin. Silently, Dean followed. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what was going on as he trailed after his best friend.

The back deck had seen better days between the peeling paint, overgrowth of trees, and slight tilt to the floor. Bobby always talked about fixing it up, but he didn’t come out to the old place very often these days, so Dean was unsurprised to see that nothing had changed. The rotting wood of the railing had a few patches of moss, and Dean picked absently at it while Crowley lit a cigar. The two friends stood in silence for a while, watching the sun setting through the trees, as pungent clouds of smoke from the expensive cigar surrounded them. Dean knew what his friend wanted—it was obvious. Honestly, he was surprised that it had taken so long for Crowley to ask for a private audience.

He waited, knowing that Crowley would get straight to the point once he opened his mouth. The moss was piling up under his fingernails as he picked it off and tossed it over the edge into the yard. Next to him, Crowley inhaled deeply. He puffed out a smoke ring and waited for it to float away before turning to Dean. “You remember that Vegas vacation we took three years ago?”

That wasn’t what Dean had expected, so he frowned a bit before nodding in the affirmative. Crowley gave him a tight smile and said, “You got me out of trouble in that high roller room, and said we would always have each other’s back.”  _ ‘Ah, so that was it.’ _ “You’re the closest thing I have to family now. My bestie,” Crowley tried to lighten the mood. “If you say the word, Squirrel, I will back off and say nothing against the fallen angel inside. I also have no issue putting him in cuffs and removing him from this equation if you so desire. What I’m saying is, that I’m on your side, in whatever way you need. I’ll back your play, Dean.” 

The thick emotion behind the words touched Dean. He didn’t have many people in his life that looked out for him, and he knew that Crowley was a man of his word. The snarky, short, Brit was more than a coworker after all of these years, for sure. He  _ was  _ family, and Dean felt a tightness in his chest that the older man was so fiercely protective of him. “Are you  _ sure _ ,” Crowley said. “And I mean, abso-bloody-lutely  _ sure _ , that Novak is trustworthy?”

It was a fair question. And if their roles were reversed, he’d be asking the same thing. Dean wasn’t quite sure how to tell his best friend that he was positive that Cas was with them. Something deep down in the recesses of Dean’s mind, where the primitive alert systems would sound at the first hint of danger, Dean knew—Castiel Novak was on their side.

Crowley smoked silently, waiting, his eyes on Dean. “I get it man,” Dean said finally. “Believe me, I do. And I can’t imagine how fucking weird it must be to see me look at things in shades of grey,” Dean admitted.

“Not really your style,” Crowley agreed with the ghost of a smile. 

“Right,” Dean said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something about Cas. I just...I just  _ know _ he’s with us. Not only because Gabe won’t budge, but because Cas is a good man. He got caught up in family duty and made some mistakes but now he wants to fix things.” He looked straight at his friend. “I trust him.”

“With your life? With your brother’s life?” Crowley arched a brow, knowing that Sam was the most important thing in the world to Dean. 

There was no hesitation as Dean said, “Absolutely. Yes.”

He watched his words sink in as Crowley mulled them over for a moment. When his friend glanced back up, he smiled. “Good enough for me,” Crowley said. 

“I appreciate that you checked,” Dean said. “You’re a good friend. The best.”

“I know,” Crowley smirked. “That’s why I said we were besties, Dean. I thought that already implied how close we are, you dolt.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever asshole.”

“Love you too, Dean.”

They chatted amicably about nothing in particular until the sky was dark and Crowley’s cigar was nothing but ash. When they rejoined the others inside, they found them all doing what they could to prepare dinner with the meager amount of stocked food in the pantry. 

At some point, Gabriel had managed to sneak away for a shower. He’d also stolen some of the old clothes in Bobby’s closet. They hung off of his frame, but neither he, nor Sam, seemed to mind. Dean chuckled when he saw that Castiel was freshly bathed but still clad in his boxy trench and backward tie. 

Crowley found it endlessly amusing that Juliet seemed unusually attached to Gabriel, as she was practically glued to his side. It could have been explained away that Gabe was wearing Bobby’s old flannel, but their surrogate dad and Juliet had never been the best of friends. Apparently the Anatolian Shepherd just really liked Gabriel...and Dean had no idea why.

When Dean went over to stand by Castiel, placing his hand low on the other man’s back, as he leaned in to hear the soft words Cas was saying, Dean met Crowley’s eyes. His friend nodded, and the approval washed over Dean. His parents may have been taken too soon, but he had managed to pick some damn good people to join his new family.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Sam had told him about their stocked safe house, Gabriel hadn’t been expecting a new canine best friend, or a lack of edible food. That was exactly what he got, however, and despite it all, Gabe was having a hard time caring too much. At least until Sam had him squeeze the silver packet of Velveeta cheese into the pot of cooked shells. 

Gabriel had looked up at his lover in horror and said, “That looks like plastic!”

“You’ll like it,” Sam laughed. “Trust me. It has no nutritional value and is a favorite of kids the world over.”

The almost expired box of shells and cheese at the back of the cupboard was just about the only food in the place when they’d gone looking for sustenance. A few cans of veggies and fruits and a single box of processed pasta was all that stood between them and starvation. “I thought you said this place was stocked,” Gabriel pouted as Castiel joined them. 

“It is,” Sam blinked. 

“There isn’t even enough food here for any of us to have the proper caloric intake for a single day,” Castiel pointed out, turning a can of creamed corn around in his hands as he read the label.

“We’re only here for the night,” Sam reminded them. “It’ll be fine. Besides, everyone likes mac and cheese,” he said brandishing the box. 

“Yeah, with four kinds of cheese that’s been freshly grated by my chef and baked with a panko crust,” Gabriel shot back.

“This stuff is good too,” Sam said. 

“I’ve never had it,” Gabe replied. When Sam looked to Cas, he also nodded. “We each have our own cook and I’m sure mine would have a coronary if I brought boxed food into his kitchen.”

“Dean used to make it for me,” Sam sounded fond. “It was easy to make without a bunch of stuff. You don’t need milk or anything fresh—just the pasta and the cheese.”

The Novaks exchanged a look and wrinkled their noses. “I guess I can try it for  _ you _ , Sammykins,” Gabe said. The beaming smile he received might make it worth choking down something so pedestrian. Fuck. When had he become such a bougie food snob? 

The three of them began to prepare a few things to eat, including the mac and cheese, all of them smiling and laughing. Occasionally Gabriel would sneak a piece of food under the table for Juliet who was practically glued to his leg. It was actually rather soothing and nice to be surrounded by happiness and affection. Gabriel found that he was enjoying himself—he wanted more moments like this with Sam.

Everything seemed so perfect.

That is, until Sam handed him that pouch of gooey, bright orange liquid cheese and Gabe almost lost what little he had in his stomach. “Oh I can’t look,” he said, even as he stared inside at the contents. “This isn’t  _ food _ , Samshine!”

Gabriel turned to his brother and shoved the container in Cas’ face. “Look at that, Cassie! Would you call this cheese?”

Apparently Cas had no words because he only blinked at it with a disturbed look on his face. Stirring the strained noodles, Sam shook his head and called them both ‘giant babies,’ as he took the pouch from Gabe’s hands. “Fine, I’ll do it—you don’t have to watch.”

Despite their aversion, both Novaks had to admit that it smelled good, especially after a long day in the car. They also peeked over Sam’s shoulders and watched him squeeze the bag of cheese product onto the noodles and stir it in. “That looks incredibly unappetizing,” Cas commented. 

“Cas, you haven’t  _ lived _ until you’ve eaten velveeta,” Dean laughed, startling them all as he and Crowley entered the kitchen.

They all grabbed small bowls and spoons and filled their plates, taking seats around the kitchen table to eat. Next to him, Crowley looked at Juliet on the floor between their chairs, her huge head resting on Gabriel’s thigh. “You haven’t been feeding my dog that dreg, have you?”

“No,” Gabe lied, hurriedly looking away from the scowling Crowley.

“Don’t spoil her,” Crowley grumbled.

Gabriel made a big show of poking at his meal with his spoon and sighing before scooping up a single pasta shell and licking it with the tip of his tongue. As soon as the flavor hit his taste buds, his eyes bugged out and he immediately scooped up as much as he could, shoveling it into his mouth. Across the table, Castiel stared disbelievingly at him. “Try it, Cassie,” Gabe urged. “Samalicious was right—this shit is good!”

Managing to pause long enough to watch, Gabriel took delight in watching his stoic little brother try something plebeian and new, while Dean whispered encouragement. While Cas’ reaction was subdued, it was similar enough to Gabriel’s that the others laughed at their expense. “Told you,” Dean crowed. “I swear, Cas—I’m going to show you a whole new world of trashy, delicious food. Open your sheltered little mouth and—“

“Woah, Dean-o,” Gabe interrupted and shook his cheese covered spoon at Dean. “That’s my baby brother’s mouth!”

Dean flushed crimson at the comment and muttered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

The rest of the meal was spent with all of them in high spirits, and the occasional joke at Dean’s expense. The fact that Castiel didn’t join in on the laughter and placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder did  _ not  _ go unnoticed by his big brother. Not that Gabriel thought anything was wrong with that sort of thing. At this point, he sort of liked Dean, despite their bickering, and Cas could do a lot worse. Besides, his baby bro needed to get some action, it would probably help with his blood pressure.

Once the food was gone, Sam offered to clean the dishes, telling the rest of them to relax. Gabe didn’t need to be told twice—he wasn’t about to volunteer to do chores. Dean and Castiel were sitting obnoxiously close across the table, their heads bent together whispering about something. It was cute, in a really gross sort of way. Gabriel found himself falling into conversation with Crowley, and the two of them discussed their single common interest: Juliet.

The gruff lead agent seemed to find it endlessly amusing that his precious dog had taken a liking to Gabriel, and he was actually teaching Gabe some of Juliet’s commands.

“They’re all in Scottish Gaelic,” Crowley explained. “That way it’s not a word that she might hear in everyday conversation. If her command to rip someone’s throat out was ‘salt’ we might have a huge bloody problem on our hands...literally.”

“That makes sense,” Gabe agreed. “Coincidentally, what  _ is  _ her command to attack?”

“You heard it earlier,” Crowley said smugly. Instead of saying the phrase aloud, and risking Juliet’s anger, he pulled out his cellphone and typed it into the text box to show to Gabriel.

_ Thoir ionnsaigh _ .

“Well there’s no way in fuck I’ll be able to pronounce  _ that, _ ” Gabe joked.

With a roll of his eyes, Crowley took his phone back and tapped the words out phonetically. Once Gabriel saw it, he found that it was much easier for his brain to wrap around. 

As Crowley continued to teach him how to command Gabe’s new best friend, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at his tall lover over by the sink. Sam was busily cleaning up their mess, but he looked over at Gabriel with fond smiles. Whenever their eyes met, Gabe felt a rush of heat straight to his groin.

When Sam was finished, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed and asked what they were planning for sleeping arrangements. “I don’t care what you lot get up to, but Juliet and I already claimed the Master Bedroom,” Crowley said. He pushed his chair back, scraping it along the floor as he stood. “There’s two other rooms across the hall and the couch. I’m sure the lovebirds will share,” he eyed

up Sam and Gabriel. 

“As for you two,” everyone turned to Castiel and Dean at Crowley’s words. “You’re free to flip for who gets the lumpy sofa.” Crowley whistled once and Juliet jumped to attention and padded after him. Just before he retreated, Crowley called back to them. “Better yet, Dean, darling,” the smile was evident in Crowley’s voice. “Don’t be utterly pathetic and just share.”

Gabriel tried to hide his snickers at the horrified look on Dean’s face. As usual, his socially clueless brother was watching Dean intently, leaning a bit too close as he said, “I would be happy to share your bed for the night, Dean.”

“Um, sure. Yeah. That’s great, Cas,” Dean coughed. 

He couldn’t help himself. “Use protection.”

Cas blinked silently, but Dean looked ready to haul off and punch him in the jaw. Which was why Gabriel didn’t put up a fight when Sam latched onto him and dragged him bodily from the room shouting “Goodnight” to their brothers.

They stumbled into the last bedroom on the left, Sam locking the door behind them. It was the first time that they had been truly alone since the drive that morning, and both of them seemed to be feeling that itching  _ need _ that prickled along their skin. Irrationally, Gabriel had the fleeting thought that he might actually die if he didn’t get his hands on Sam as quickly as possible. 

“Finally alone,” Sam said, leaning against the door, his heated gaze roaming over Gabriel’s body like a touch. It sent a delicious shiver down Gabe’s spine. 

“Oh, come on, kiddo,” Gabriel teased. “I’m not that easy.”

“Yes you are,” Sam smiled. 

Gabriel hummed, considering. “Fair point.”

The sight of Sam pushing off of the door and walking toward him was electric. It spoke of something dark in the promise of his grin and Gabriel couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the evening had in store. To get a man of Sam Winchester’s caliber underneath him, would be a dream come true—and Gabe was so close. He licked his lips as Sam approached, standing just a bit too close, watching Gabe’s every move. The fact that they were both still clothed didn’t diminish the eroticism of the moment. 

Sam leaned down close, his lips hovering right next to Gabriel’s. It was a perfect kind of torture. Hot breath ghosted against his skin and Gabe’s eyes slid shut. “Then give me a chance to steal your heart, Gabriel,” Sam whispered. 

“You already stole my car,” Gabe pointed out, cheekily. “Now you want vital organs too?”

The light snort of laughter from Sam didn’t dull either of their lust. And despite Gabe’s penchant for jokes, the mood wasn’t ruined in the least. “I just want you,” Sam confessed. “Only you, Gabriel Novak.”

It was the first time in Gabe’s memory that he’d been exactly what someone wanted—needed—and fuck, it was a heady feeling. “You keep buttering me up like that, kiddo, you’re going to make me fall for you.”

Sam grinned before he leaned down for a kiss. “Good.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

More than anything, Sam wanted there to be no doubt in Gabriel’s mind just how much he was wanted. He’d seen the fleeting, broken looks on Gabe’s face when he received compliments and Sam wanted to make sure that he never saw them again. Besides, in a situation such as this, who knew if they would have an opportunity like this again. Everything could blow up in their faces—someone could get hurt. Sam knew the odds. And he also knew that life was rarely fair. 

When their lips met, Sam put everything that he could behind his kiss. All of his intentions for where he hoped this relationship would go, flowed powerfully between them. Gabriel gasped into his mouth and Sam took the opening, pressing further. Hands resting on Gabe’s hips, Sam backed the shorter man into the bed. 

When his knees hit the mattress and Gabriel toppled backward, Sam followed, falling with him, but careful not to crush his lover. They writhed on the bed, all roaming hands, fierce kisses, and words of adoration. Sam could see stars behind his eyes. In all his life, he had never felt so connected to another person; so complete. It was intoxicating and such a  _ high _ —he wasn’t sure that he’d ever get enough of Gabriel Novak. Honestly, he hoped that he never did. Sam wanted to spend the rest of his life exploring this man. For now though, he’d settle for tonight.

Gabriel was yanking at Sam’s jacket, inching it off of his shoulders, while making sure they stayed attached at the lips. Wriggling a bit to the side, Sam assisted in Gabe’s efforts, pulling his arms from the sleeves. While Gabriel continued on to the buttons of Sam’s worn flannel, his own shit was being systematically removed. 

With a lifetime of experience unbuttoning in a hurry, Sam had Gabriel down to nothing but his pants while Gabe still struggled with Sam’s top. “Holy hell, kiddo,” Gabe panted. “What’s with all the layers? You’re like a Russian Nesting Doll!”

Barking out a laugh, Sam pulled out of the kiss and pushed himself up enough to remove his own clothes while Gabriel eyed him intently. It was incredibly erotic to have those mischievous golden eyes taking over him, as though he was Gabriel’s favorite dessert. “Forget I said anything,” Gabriel added after a minute. “This weird, drawn out striptease is actually really fucking hot.”

“Shut up,” Sam laughed, kicking off his jeans. 

Straddling Gabriel’s narrow hips, he fumbled with the button on the baggy jeans that Gabe had commandeered from one of Bobby’s closets. Before he could slide the worm denim down, Gabriel was already reaching impatiently for him. “Get back here,” Gabe demanded. 

“No way,” Sam grinned. He sat back on his heels and worked Gabe’s pants off. As he placed his fingers under the band of Gabriel’s impossibly short, shimmery gold boxer briefs, Sam shook his head in amusement. “Did you get these from the Rocky Horror collection?”

“Maybe,” Gabe drew out the word teasingly. “You should see me in a corset and heels, kiddo—you’ll lose it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Sam bit his lip in concentration as he pulled the ridiculous underwear down, exposing all of Gabriel.

He was perfect.

Everything that Sam has ever wanted, if he was honest with himself. Just as he’d suspected, Gabriel was much larger than average. In the past, Sam had always been told how large he was; but checking out what Gabe had to offer, Sam wasn’t sure he measured up. Gabriel’s cock was thick and longer than any Sam had seen. Without a thought, Sam reached for it, only pulling back at the last second and asking, “May I?”

“You’re such a fucking nerd with the proper grammar at a time like this,” Gabe teased. When Sam didn’t move, just watching him, Gabriel rolled his eyes and said, “For fuck’s sake—yes! Touch me, please! I need you so bad!”

With the enthusiastic permission, Sam eagerly wrapped his fingers around Gabe’s dick, moaning at the feeling of velvet hardness in his hand. Gabe was already fully hard, his erection throbbing in Sam’s light grip. Precum gathered around the head, and Sam ran his thumb over the slit, drawing a gasp from his partner. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

Sam grinned. He had  _ no  _ intention of stopping—not now. “You are so fucking hot,” he breathed, giving Gabe a few lazy pumps. 

The tantalizing view when Gabriel’s head fell back against the bed, had Sam bending down and licking a stripe up Gabe’s neck. The bob of Gabriel’s Adam’s Apple as he swallowed thickly made Sam want to tease. But he knew full well that he wouldn’t. They were both needy and aching. This encounter wasn’t going to last long.

Fingernails scraped down his spine and Sam arched into the touch. When they reached his hips, Sam gave a small shimmy to assist Gabriel in removing his own underwear. As the material moved over his pulsing dick, Sam could hear Gabriel chanting softly, “Wanna see you, Sammy.”

When they were both naked, they surged together, wrapping limbs around anything they could. Their lips explored expanses of skin as both of them murmured praise over each other. Instead of the frantic pace they had started, now they moved with deliberation. All careful touches, and deep kisses full of unspoken words. This hadn’t been what he’d expected, no—it was far better.

The taste of Gabriel made him lightheaded with cravings. He didn’t simply  _ want  _ more—he  _ needed  _ more. “Gabe,” Sam moaned. “You gotta fuck me. Please,” his voice broke as he begged. 

A desperate groan was Gabriel’s only response before he twisted, hooking his muscular thighs around Sam’s waist and flipping them effortlessly. When he pushed away to stand, Sam was still gaping at the fact that he’d been manhandled so easily. Gabriel’s eyes burned with heated desire as he raked his gaze over Sam’s naked body. The focused list was enough to punch the air from Sam’s lungs. Before he could speak a word, Gabe bent over and began rummaging around in the pockets of their discarded clothing. 

After a second he popped back up, a condom and a small tube of lubrication in his hands. Tossing the supplies on the bed, Gabriel wasted no time grabbing Sam’s hips and pulling him down toward the end of the bed. Gently pushing Sam’s knees apart, Gabriel moved between them with intent. The way that Gabriel was looking at him sent a thrill through Sam and he shivered under the attention. The pad of Gabe’s thumb rested against his hole, circling lightly—enough to tease. It was a gorgeous kind of torture. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” Gabriel’s voice was rough. He grabbed the lube and flicked it open, making a show of coating his fingers. He was too steady and Sam was falling apart—it wasn’t fair. “Spread out like an offering to the gods—-fuck, Sam,” Gabe finally pushed his slick finger to Sam’s rim, sliding barely inside. “You’re fucking amazing.”

The finger fully breached him, rubbing along his insides and Sam let out a low, drawn out groan. “Yes, Gabe—feels amazing!”

Above him, Gabriel shook his head, slowly finger fucking him. “I wanted this to last all night, kiddo,” Gabe said ruefully. “But you’ve gone and destroyed all of my plans. I’m going to need to take you apart some other night. Tonight,” he breathed, slipping another digit into Sam, “I’m just going to take you.”

“Fuck yes,  _ please _ ,” Sam begged, circling his hips, wishing for more. He wanted to be filled with Gabriel; to feel the other man moving against him, inside himself. He  _ craved  _ it. 

Those clever fingers were brushing his prostate on every stroke and Sam was so close. He cried out a warning to his lover and Gabriel immediately stopped. The emptiness was horrible. Sam grunted and lifted his hips, thrusting the air to no avail as Gabriel hurriedly unrolled a condom over himself. “Want you, need you,” Sam repeated. 

When the thick, blunt head of Gabe’s cock pushed at his entrance, Sam whimpered. His needy sounds seemed to spur something in Gabriel, because he pushed in, stretching Sam wide. It wasn’t slow, or accommodating, it was desperate and filthy with a healthy burn. Short gasps fell from Sam’s lips as he was filled.

Gabriel’s fingers dug into the flesh of Sam’s hips, holding him still as he bottomed out. Unable to help himself, Sam unconsciously squeezed his inner muscles around Gabe’s cock, making the older man groan. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Gabe praised. 

Underneath him, Sam hitched his hips, hoping to pull his lover in deeper. He felt stretched to the brink, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel Gabe for days. “Oh please fuck me,” he whispered.

The slide of Gabe’s cock had him gasping as it pulled out of him. Just when he began to beg in guttural moans, Gabriel slammed into him. The sharp sting of pain was accompanied by the zing of pleasure up his spine from a direct hit to his prostate. The pace Gabriel set was unforgiving. They were both craving the high, the delicious blend of pleasure and pain. Gabe’s fingertips dug into him and Sam knew that his hips would be bruised in the morning. The idea of Gabe marking him, had him moaning his lover’s name. 

“One of these days,” Gabe’s words were punched from him as he fucked into Sam’s ass. “I’m gonna take you bare, kiddo. Fuck you until you can’t walk and fill you up—mark you as mine. All mine, my Sammy.”

“Fuck yes,” Sam cried, digging his heels into the meat of Gabe’s butt cheeks, trying to pull his lover deeper. “Wanna feel you come inside me, Gabe. Need it!”

“I promise I’ll make it happen,” Gabe vowed, thrusting particularly roughly.

Sam’s hands were holding onto Gabe’s shoulders, clinging to them as he was fucked deeply. He was being pounded into the mattress, and it was the best feeling in the world. He felt free and complete, and a dozen other things that Dean would call him a ‘bitch’ for, if he dared speak them aloud. 

How had he survived without Gabriel in his life like this? How had he thought that sex had ever been good before this night? Sam was completely blown out of the water from both the stellar love-making, and the brimming feelings that were making him want to shout words that he had no business saying. Not yet, at least. Who fell in love with someone in a single day?

“Gabriel,” he shouted. “Fuck yes you’re so good—I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Good boy, Sammy,” Gabe grunted in his ear. “Come for me, show me how much you like it when I fuck your little ass. Show me what a dirty boy you are, Samshine.”

Something about the filthy words falling from Gabriel’s lips sent Sam over the edge and he was spilling his load between them. Thick ropes of cum, coated their bellies where Sam’s cock had been trapped, getting all of the friction it needed to release. Just when he thought he’d finished, Gabriel fucked into him a few more times and Sam felt another pump of hot cum shoot out of his dick. At the same moment, the warmth of Gabriel’s own release pulsed into the condom, making Sam shiver at the sensation. 

Gabriel was giving shallow, small pumps of his hips as he rode out his own orgasm and something about it made Sam wish he still had the refractory period of a teen. He wanted Gabriel again. Over and over. There was a very good possibility that he would never be satisfied—that he would never get enough of Gabriel Novak. 

Above him, Gabriel collapsed onto his chest, obviously uncaring of the mess. He pushed up onto his toes, causing his cock to slip from Sam’s ass, as Gabe pecked him on the mouth. “You might kill me,” he accused with a grin. “I’ve never had sex this good before.”

“Me either,” Sam admitted. 

“And that was only our first try,” Gabe pushed up to look at him. “Imagine how good it will be with some practice,” he winked. 

“As much as I’d love another round, I don’t think I can move,” Sam admitted. 

“No worries, kiddo. I got you.” Gabriel hopped up, surprisingly energetic and grabbed Sam’s large flannel off of the floor. He draped it over himself like a robe and pulled the used condom off. “Don’t move.” Gabe slipped out of the room, and returned moments later with a warm wet rag. He tenderly cleaned Sam’s stomach, chest and puffy hole, which made him wince just a bit, causing Gabriel to frown. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“You didn’t hurt me at all,” Sam corrected. 

Gabriel looked as though he didn’t believe him, but dropped the subject. Tossing the rag onto the floor, he stripped again and crawled into bed with Sam. Plastering himself to Sam’s side, Gabe pulled the woolen blankets over their nude forms as he nuzzled Sam’s neck. Placing a few suckling kisses to Sam’s throat, Gabriel murmured, “‘Night, kiddo.”

A split second later, soft snores indicated that Gabriel had succumbed to sleep. Chuckling a bit at how adorable he found the action, Sam gave a quick kiss to Gabe’s forehead before closing his own eyes. 

“Goodnight, my Gabriel,” he said. It wasn’t exactly the three words that Sam longed to say, but they held the same intent. For now, it would have to be good enough.

*~*~*~*~*~*

In the next room over, Dean shoved a pillow over his face and grit his teeth, hoping to shut out the sound of his little brother getting laid. And it didn’t help that he was currently sharing a bed with the most devastatingly attractive man he’d ever laid eyes on. A man that was the definition of ‘hands off, Winchester.’ This was officially the worst assignment that the Winchesters had ever been on, and Dean couldn’t wait for it to be finished—the job  _ and  _ the sex that he’d been listening to for the past twenty minutes. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, poor Dean-o! Gabriel would apologize, but...he's not sorry.
> 
> Juliet's Commands:  
> *Halt—Scottish Gaelic  
> stad { verb noun masculine } (intransitive) to stop either temporarily or permanently.


	11. The British Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ketch catches up and when Gabriel is the voice of reason, things are obviously FUBAR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some descriptions of a shootout and some minor violence in this chapter.

When they finally pulled themselves out of bed after lazy morning handjobs, the very last thing that Sam expected to hear when he walked into the kitchen was his brother saying, “For the sake of my sanity, maybe try a gag or something in the future?” 

“What?” Sam scrunched up his nose in confusion. Dean, Cas, and Crowley were all seated around the large pinewood table in the kitchen eating slightly burnt toast, and what appeared to be a few assorted cans of cold mixed vegetables.

“I don’t ever need to hear the Moose Mating Call that Cas and I were treated to all last night,” Dean grumbled. “You sound like you’re choking when you come.”

“I was reminded more of a goose honking when you reached your climax, Sam,” Castiel said casually, slathering butter onto his toast. 

“You’re loud, Moose,” Crowley unnecessarily added. “Some of us were trying to get our beauty rest last night—not that I need it, of course.”

“Oh fuck,” Sam groaned. He raked a palm down his face and immediately spun to rush out of the room in his embarrassment.

However, Gabriel caught him by the hand and pulled him back toward the table with surprising strength. “Don’t listen to them, kiddo,” he said reassuringly. Just as Sam was feeling less horrified and about to take a seat, Gabe continued. “If you do sound like a goose when you come, then it’s definitely a sexy goose if that’s a thing that exists.”

“I hate you all,” Sam groaned as everyone snickered and Crowley shoved a cup of coffee into his hands. 

“You adore us, you giant Wookie,” Crowley smiled fondly.

Next to him, Gabriel reached over and placed a hand high up on Sam’s thigh. He was embarrassed when he jumped, loudly banging his knee on the table. Gabe’s light squeeze was comforting and also distracting as all hell, because Sam really didn’t need to get hard at the moment. He grit his teeth and made a poor attempt at a smile before gulping some coffee.

“First thing,” Sam said, trying to draw the attention to the matter at hand, and away from his sex life. “We need to get in touch with Charlie.”

“Definitely,” Dean agreed. He turned to Cas and added, “She’ll be able to help you with all the technological witchcraft stuff on your end.”

“Charlie.” Cas’ brow furrowed in concentration as he seemed to be working through something. “Charlie Bradbury,” he said. “That explains why she wouldn’t help me.”

“She’s one of ours,” Crowley said. “Occasionally informally. Excellent young lady.”

“Yeah, she tipped us off that you were on to us,” Sam added. 

Castiel snorted. “So much for loyalty,” he said, but there was no heat behind it. 

“How do you know her, Cas?” Dean asked. 

“We were friends at university,” he said. “She actually roomed with my ex-girlfriend and two other ladies for a while. I think she dated one of them. The other,” he sighed, “April. She was...somewhat interested in me.”

It was Gabriel’s turn to bark out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “That crazy bitch was beyond obsessed with you, Cassie.” He turned to Sam with a wicked grin. “Textbook definition of stalker. He made her cry once and then she threatened his girlfriend, Meg, with a knife and ended up getting carted away to the nuthouse.”

“Gabriel, don’t be an ass,” Castiel chided. “April was a troubled girl. She had to withdraw from school after the stabbing incident.”

“She was a psycho,” Gabriel stage-whispered. 

“As fascinating, and unlikely as this story is, we do need to get Bradbury on board as soon as we can,” Crowley drawled. 

Sam tried to hide his smile when Cas squinted at Crowley, asking why the tale sounded false and received a, “I don’t see why a woman would go crazy over  _ you _ ,” from Crowley. 

“I can do many things with my tongue,” was Cas’ deadpan response. It made Crowley laugh fully, and caused Dean to suck coffee through his nose.

Sam clapped his brother hard on the back as Dean sucked in air and said, “Can you give Charlie a call and have her meet up with Cas?”

“Sure,” Dean gasped. “Hey, Cas,” he said. “Come with me, we can do a video chat with her so she knows it’s legit and that we’re together.”

“That sounds good,” Castiel smiled as both men stood and headed to the long sofa in the living room together. Dean has his phone out and already dialing as Cas sat down next to him. Sam grinned a little as he noticed how unnaturally close they were sitting to one another. His brother was practically in Castiel’s lap.

“Well, I’m going to start packing my things,” Crowley stood from the table. He looked over to Gabriel and asked, “Gabe, darling, would you mind taking Juliet out for walkies?” He patted her head as her tongue lolled happily. 

At the moment, she didn’t look like a trained killer—she looked more like a happy puppy on a calendar. Sam knew that Gabe would agree, he apparently had a soft spot for animals, and he and Juliet were now the very best of buddies. It was actually endearing, considering that Sam could count the people that Juliet liked on one hand and they were all in this room. 

“Absolutely, you sweet baby girl,” Gabriel said in an odd voice. “Do you want to go outside with Uncle Gabe?” Juliet barked, which caused them all to laugh.

“Be a good girl,” Crowley told the dog before heading away to the master bedroom. 

For his part, Sam chugged the rest of his coffee and stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth as he began to clean the table. Gabriel was busy grabbing a small bag for any possible poop incidents, and a handful of treats. As he moved to the back door with Juliet, Sam reached out and snagged his lover’s shirt, pulling him in for a quick, sweet, kiss. “I’ll miss you,” Sam said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll hurry back,” Gabe smiled.

“You better not find someone else while you’re out there in the woods with my boss’s dog,” Sam teased.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Gabriel opened the door and winked. “You’re the only woodland creature for me, my lovely Moose.”

Sam could see them walking toward the tree line through the small, dusty window over the sink. He smiled at the sight of Gabriel practically skipping along with Juliet beside him. Even a no-nonsense guard dog could be taken in by Gabriel Novak’s sunny brand of charm. 

Just as he tossed the empty and rinsed out cans into the recycling bin, Sam heard a distinct beep from the security panel which made him narrow his eyes in suspicion. He walked passed Dean and Cas who were cuddled on the couch chatting with Charlie and setting up a time and place to meet. Down the hall, he could hear the faint movements of Crowley, most likely neatly folding all of his clothing before packing it away. 

The beeping was still choking away, insistent, and frankly, worrisome. When Sam looked down at the screen, his heart stopped at the words ‘ _ Security Breach _ ’ flashing continuously to the time of the warning tones. 

Someone was here, and there was really only one person that it could possibly be. Sam’s throat went dry as he called out, “Hey, guys…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The trackers had allowed Ketch to give his prey some space as he tailed them. He didn’t need to keep a visual when the exact locations of each vehicle pinged on his phone every two minutes. He’d been concerned when the car which Gabriel had taken fell behind, but that seemed to be an aberration when they both appeared together once again. Perhaps they’d been caught in traffic, or stopped for lunch—who cared?

Ketch had arrived in Angel’s Breath around two in the morning. He’d managed to find the property where the cars were parked with little trouble, but he hit a snag when he realized how that particular piece of land was protected. It took him the better part of the night to work out safe passage through the property and to the building without tripping an alarm.

Once his stolen car had been tucked off of the road, mostly hidden in the underbrush, Ketch loaded himself up with as much weaponry as he could strap to her person. By this point, the sun was just beginning to rise, and a thick, swirling fog was rising from the forest floor. Deftly, he began his journey toward the cabin.

It took much longer than Ketch had planned, watching every step he made, and constantly second-guessing his route, but eventually, the trees began to thin and he caught his first glimpse of the safe house. He approached from the east and he could see both cars that he’d tagged sitting out front of the small home, as well as another half-hidden around the side. That meant there was at least one other person inside that he hadn’t accounted for.

A few mental calculations and adjustments had Ketch nodding and feeling confident, despite the extra people in play. He was a professional—and this was  _ not  _ a setback. 

Knowing full well that he needed to have visual confirmation of any kills to appease God, Ketch prepared himself for the coming fight. He was aware that his biggest challenge would come in the form of Castiel. He didn’t want to kill his apprentice, but he would if necessary—no regrets. Hopefully, once inside, Cas would do the right thing and assist, but Ketch couldn’t rely on that scenario.

Never one to shirk, Ketch made the final move toward the cabin, staying low and moving as quickly and silently as humanly possible. He was going to have to rely on the element of surprise to come out on top in a five on one skirmish. There was no way he could afford to slip up at this stage of the game.

Few people, save for Castiel, could move with the stealth and precision that Ketch had mastered during his blood-soaked career. However, Ketch failed to notice his foot hitting a sensor buried in the earth. The pressure he put on the hidden weight plate was enough to set off a small alarm inside the cabin. Ketch had no idea that when he walked inside that the men he was after would have had a moment’s notice to prepare.

No matter how this ended up going down, Arthur Ketch had an idea that it wouldn’t be pretty.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Gabriel wasn’t used to things like gunshots at nine in the morning. He wasn’t particularly used to gunshots  _ at all _ , if he was being honest. So when the first rapport sounded, he didn’t pay it much mind. Juliet, on the other hand, did. 

Her ears went back, her hackles raised, and the low, lip-curling growl made Gabriel shiver at its ferocity. “What’s up, Jules?” The huge guard dog snarled in response, not at him, but in the direction of the cabin. Another loud bang echoed from the house and Gabriel’s brain finally caught up and he gulped. “Oh,  _ fuck _ !”

Immediately he crouched low to the ground and scurried toward the back deck, Juliet hot on his heels. Despite his usual self-preservation tactics screaming in the back of his mind, things were different for Gabe now. He had Sam. And there was  _ no way in hell _ that he was going to lose that man. With little regard for himself, Gabriel was going inside—and he was going to do what he could to save the man he was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with. 

It was tricky to creep up onto the rickety porch without tripping or alerting anyone to his presence. Juliet was much better at stealth than he was at the moment. As he neared the door, Gabriel wracked his brain trying to recall all of Juliet’s commands that Crowley had taught him the night before. At the time, Gabriel had figured he’d remembered most of them, but now, in the heat of action, his memory was full of holes and misdirection.

Bullets were still flying inside the cabin, and Gabriel knew that logically they were most likely going through the walls as well, but he wasn’t focused on his own safety. He just wanted to get to Sam, and he knew Juliet was trying to get to Crowley. They both had someone to protect. Gabriel reached the door and placed his hand on the knob. There was no turning back once he opened that door, and he knew it. For the first time, the ‘cowardly angel’ was going to charge headfirst into something messy without looking. It was a heady feeling that made his insides twist.

This was it. 

With a deep breath, Gabriel flung open the door and stepped in, observing the chaos. The living room furniture had been upended and was being used as make-shift covers for the others. He could see Dean and Cas occasionally shooting from behind the sofa, while Crowley was on his feet down the hallway, as he stayed mostly behind the corner. All three of the men were firing toward the kitchen when possible. What hurt the most, was not being able to find Sam. 

He allowed a moment to scan the rooms looking for his giant lover, but he didn’t see anything at first. The moment his eyes landed on a large, bare, foot behind an overturned chair, Gabriel’s heart stopped. There was a split second of panic before Sam peeked around the side of the chair and shot. He seemed to be doing his best to stay curled in a ball, hiding himself behind the rather small recliner.

Once Gabe knew Sam was alive, he looked toward the kitchen where he saw what everyone was aiming for. Arthur Ketch was on the ground, the heavy, wood table on its side, shielding him from the others. Gabriel, however, had a clear view—too bad he wasn’t armed. Well, he wasn’t armed in the traditional sense. Gabe glanced down at Juliet who was stuck to his side, growling, poised, and waiting for a command. 

Realizing that Ketch still hadn't noticed his entrance, Gabriel decided to play the only hand that he could. He gave Juliet a soft stroke between her ears and said firmly, “Juliet,  _ thoir ionnsaigh! _ ” He prayed to whatever deity who may be listening that he pronounced the command properly. Apparently it was spot on, or close enough, because Juliet responded immediately. 

She leapt, her jaws wide and terrifying. The others were trained enough to notice the extra player in the game and ceased their fire as soon as they saw the massive canine. Ketch seemed surprised that no one was shooting any longer, and Gabriel saw him smile, just before their father’s hitman felt the sharp sting of teeth on his body.

The Shepard was ruthless and unforgiving. She had been given the attack command, but hadn’t been given permission to kill just yet, so she was doing her damndest to maim. Ketch’s screaming—as well as flinging drops of his blood—filled the air as the Winchesters, Cas and Crowley lowered their weapons and stepped into the kitchen. 

It wasn’t long before he was almost still beneath them, as Juliet completely controlled him. “Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked!” Gabriel shouted, pleased.

Juliet was clamping heavily onto Ketch’s shooting arm, hard enough that he was crying out in pain. She had one, massive paw digging into his chest, almost at his throat. With her bulk, it would only need a slight shift for her to close off his windpipe. 

“Good girl,” Gabriel praised the giant dog as she kept the danger of Arthur Ketch subdued.

“Excellent, darling,” Crowley said fondly as he neared his precious dog. He moved quickly, pulling out a pair of cuffs and whispering instructions to Juliet. 

Gabriel blinked dumbly as Sam rushed to his side. As soon as his handsome moose moved into his line of sight, Gabriel seemed to snap out of it and he launched himself into Sam’s arms. “Are you okay, Gabe?”

“Better now,” he sucked in a breath, smelling the delicious scent of Sam.

“You’re not hurt?” Sam stroked his hair gently, voice tinged with concern. 

“I’m fine,” Gabe pulled away and looked up into Sam’s gorgeous hazel eyes. “Are you? Did anyone get hurt?” He glanced around at his brother and Dean.

“We’re good,” Dean replied. “Ketch is the only one hurt.”

“Good,” Gabriel said coldly. He gave Sam another right hug before turning to look down at Ketch, now face down on the ground, Crowley hovering over him with Juliet poised nearby. 

Crowley yanked Ketch’s injured arm back hard, causing the ruthless killer to scream in agony. “That sound,” Crowley twisted further until Ketch was whimpering loudly. “That sound is soothing to my dark, dead, little heart.” He leaned in, his lips only centimeters from Ketch’s ear as he whispered. “The sound of your pain is just gorgeous, Arthur.” Crowley turned toward them with a sadistic grin as he slapped a set of cuffs onto Ketch’s wrists. “Wouldn’t you agree boys?”

“Absolutely,” Castiel was the only one to respond, his voice cold.

“Cas,” Ketch managed, trying to speak through his bloody lips, as Crowley shoved him down to the floor. He twisted his body to look up at his protégé with wild eyes.

“No,” Castiel replied calmly. “You always told me that we didn’t harm the innocent. That it was easier to get caught if you got sloppy. Just the target—those were the rules.”

Through the pain and the blood, Ketch sneered. “There’s always exceptions. Some people deserve it.” Glancing up, Ketch took in the faces hovering over him. “I remember you,” he eyed both the Winchesters and Crowley. “All of you. Daddy couldn’t keep his nose out of our business, and your bitch of a mother was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he addressed the Winchester brothers. Shifting his eyes to Crowley, Ketch smiled sickly at him. “You know, I attended your niece’s funeral—making sure all the ends were tied up. It was almost comical seeing all those teenagers sobbing away while reciting song lyrics for a piss-poor example of a eulogy. What was her name again? Anna?”

“Abby,” Crowley hissed. “Abaddon McLeod. And believe me when I tell you that after your trial, you’ll never forget her name again.”

“There won’t be a trial,” Castiel said, casually stroking the barrel of his gun. The others in the room turned and gaped at him. “I will take him out back into the woods and end this.”

For the first time, Ketch actually looked terrified. He began to slowly shake his head, but no words could form. Going against his inherently selfish nature, Gabriel suddenly found himself thinking of someone else first. Not that utter douche-canoe, Ketch. No, he was thinking about his brother. 

“Cas,” he said, putting every ounce of ‘Big Brother’ behind his words. “You don’t want to do that.” He could see that the Winchesters and Crowley, despite being law enforcement, were considering Castiel’s offer. “Look, bro,” Gabe pushed himself from Sam’s embrace and walked over to his younger brother. “I know what it’s like to want justice.” Gabriel glanced around at all of them, trying to make his point. “Believe me, I know—but  _ this _ —taking Ketch out back and leaving him in a shallow grave? That’s not justice, no matter how good you think it will make you feel.”

Castiel and Crowley didn’t look as though they were buying his plea; but he seemed to get through to the Winchesters as both brother’s postures slumped and they began to nod. “He’s right, Cas,” Dean said gruffly. He moved up next to the Novaks and rested a heavy hand on Cas’ shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to agree with Gabe, he’s right. We can’t just kill him.”

“Speak for yourself, Squirrel.” Crowley’s eyes were flashing.

“Come on, man,” Dean walked from Castiel to his boss. “You’re my best friend, besides Sammy,” Dean said. “You might as well be my brother too—you’re family Crowley. And I know your mean streak. I’m right there with you, man,” Dean was pleading. “But we are better than this.”

Something in the older man seemed to break and he closed his eyes for a moment. “You’ve always been my conscience haven’t you, Rocky?”

“I do my best, Boris,” Dean chuckled. 

“Fine,” Crowley nodded and Gabe let out the breath he’d been holding. “I’ll take him back to headquarters and put him on ice. The rest of you can start on the New Plan B.”

“I am still of the mind that sneaking into my father’s house is underhanded,” Castiel crossed his arms.

“Says the man who just offered to commit murder,” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I am not opposed to breaking the law when it is justified,” Cas pointed out. “What we have planned just seems...cowardly.”

Gabriel took that moment to clap his hands together and draw the attention back on himself. “Since I’m the expert on cowardice here, I think I should get to put in my two cents.”

“What are you talking about, Gabe? You’re not a coward,” Sam started.

Right in cue, Castiel held up his hand, interrupting Sam. “No, Gabriel does have a reputation for running when things get difficult.”

“Thanks, Cassie,” Gabe did his best to smile, disguising his hurt. He knew it was a fact, but it always stung when someone agreed with him.

“Anytime.” Ah, good old Cas—always borderline rude without meaning it.

“Look,” he said. “I know where you’re coming from. The honor thing—I get it, I do. And I know it goes against everything in you to not ‘battle with honor,’ Cas,” Gabriel said, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But sometimes the sneaky, underhanded way is better. Safer, at least.”

“I don’t like it,” Castiel was quietly furious. “But perhaps, in this instance, your way is the correct choice.”

Gabriel slapped his brother heartily on the back. “I knew you’d come around one day.” He smiled, feigning obliviousness to the glare that Cas was leveling at him.

While the Winchesters hurriedly gathered their meager belongings and set the alarm system, Crowley wrestled a wounded Ketch out to his sleek black luxury car, parked out back. When Castiel offered to help, Crowley waved him off, remarking that it would be more fun to wrestle the bastard on his own. He shoved Ketch down the stairs roughly with Juliet following happily along. 

The Novak siblings took the moment to stand on the front porch alone and look out across the property. In a sad attempt to distract himself, Gabe rolled the silver handcuff key around in his fingers. 

He’d found it on the floor of their room when he’d pulled the clothes he’d borrowed back on once the bullets had stopped flying. He’d haphazardly tossed his boots into the corner of the room last night and the hidden key had slipped out. 

As he rubbed his thumb against the cool metal, Gabriel was just grateful that he’d found it. He’d dropped a decent amount for those cuffs, and he had plans for them, now that he and Sam were a  _ thing _ . Pausing his fiddling, Gabe looked up and saw Cas eyeing the key. Not wanting to explain, he palmed it and bent down to tuck it safely back into his boot. He didn’t have much need for it at the moment, but at least he’d know where it was if he did.

The silence between the brothers was heavy, and Gabriel knew that while he was processing some heavy shit, that Cas probably had even more broken, raw feelings tumbling around inside. In the time it took for Gabriel to breathe deeply, Cas finally spoke, his gravelly voice even tougher than usual, thick with something that Gabe was afraid could be a genuine emotion. That didn’t bode well. 

“I just can’t believe that father really wanted us dead,” Cas shook his head. “I know what he is capable of, but I never thought that he  _ would _ or  _ could _ do that to us.”

Gabriel sighed. He didn’t know what to say to his younger brother. While Gabriel has learned early on that Chuck held no real love for any of his children, Castiel had held hope somewhere inside. Who fucking knew why? Cas’ upbringing was way more messed up than Gabe’s had been, he knew that. Once Gabriel started acting out, Chuck had basically washed his hands of his middle child. But oh, Cas. Little Castiel Novak had been  _ groomed _ to be an unquestioning, loyal killer. 

Gabriel had always known, but he had no idea how to help—calling the authorities on Chuck Novak for something like abuse was laughable. It would have just made everything so much worse. While Gabriel had buried his head in the sand, Castiel had endured so much—and he still had  _ hope. _ The cynical part of Gabriel itched to tease and taunt; but the part of him that had awoken the moment that Sam Winchester had found him in the trunk of his own car—that part wanted to make it all up to his baby brother. 

Cas was looking at him, and if Gabe didn’t know better, he’d say that his brother’s blue eyes had a sheen of tears in them. But that was insane, because Castiel never showed emotion of any kind. “Gabriel,” Cas whispered. “Why would he do this?”

On instinct, Gabe reached out and pulled Cas tightly into his arms, squeezing his taller sibling fiercely. “Because,” he paused, unsure. “I guess when you become a God, you lose what makes you a human.”

“Your soul,” Cas said. 

“Yeah, buddy,” Gabriel allowed his brother to squeeze him tightly. “I am never going to look the other way again—you hear me?” He looked up and made sure that Cas was paying attention. “I’m sticking with you. From here on out, we are going to have each other. Okay, baby bro?”

“Okay, Gabriel,” Cas said solemnly. “Together.”

Breaking their touching bro-ment, Dean and Sam clamored out onto the porch, locking up the cabin behind them. “Are you two done with your chick-flick moment?” He asked, eyeing the two Novaks hugging. 

“Just finishing up, Dean-o,” Gabriel tried to sound as obnoxious as possible as he let go of Cas and followed the Winchesters to their vehicles.

“Good,” Dean said, popping the trunk of the Impala and tossing in their bags. He slammed the trunk closed and turned to look at Castiel.

Gabriel felt a strong arm slide around his waist and he looked up into his lover’s eyes. Sam gazed at him, brimming with emotion as he said, “We’ve got work to do.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Juliet.


	12. Inside Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie joins their merry band and Gabriel goes home, though nothing goes to plan...

In a dark, corner booth of The Roadhouse, Charlie Bradbury bounced on the cracked vinyl and tapped her fingers along the tabletop. She fidgeted when she was nervous, and this situation called for a crap ton of nerves.

She was still reeling from finding out that not only were her college buddy and her ‘work wife’ falling for each other, but that they were about to finally pull the plug on Grace Avionics and Chuck Novak. Today was a big day. Huge. 

In a sad attempt to distract herself, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling. A notification to connect to a WiFi network popped up and Charlie snorted at the name: DrBadass_isIN. Unlike the bar’s network, this one was secured—but not from the likes of Charlie. Within four minutes, she was inside and had changed the network’s name to TheFedsRWatching_DrBadass. She was still giggling to herself when four men slid into her booth, trapping her in the center. 

“Hey guys,” Charlie threw up a peace sign in greeting. 

“Hey Charlie,” Dean said, from her left side. Cas was next to him on the end and she was pretty sure that they were holding hands.

On her right was a short guy with golden hair and a smirk that looked like trouble. When she caught a look at his eyes, she totally understood why Sam was practically draped over the dude, despite the fact that she wasn’t into dick. They looked cute together. “Who’s your arm candy, Winchester?” She asked Sam.

“Ooh, I like being arm candy,” the guy winked at her and snuggled into Sam’s side. 

“You just like the candy part,” Castiel said dully. He looked at Charlie, “The parasite on Sam is my older brother, Gabriel.”

Charlie beamed at Gabe as he scowled and muttered that he wasn’t a parasite. “Gabriel Novak. Wow,” she held out her hand. “Gotta say, I’ve heard stories. I’m Charlie. I went to college with Cas and I work with the Winchesters. It’s an honor.”

They shook hands and Gabriel sized her up. “An honor, huh? What kind of stories did Cassie tell about me?”

“He might have mentioned the time you put Lucifer in a canoe while he was passed out drunk and shoved him out into the middle of the lake,” Charlie smiled as Gabriel snickered evilly.

“That’s not that bad,” Dean spoke up.

“She forgot to mention that Gabriel covered the boat, the oars, and Lucifer with ten tubes of lubrication and removed his clothes,” Castiel said.

“What the fuck, dude?” Dean said. “That’s hardcore cruel.”

“Um, yeah,” Gabriel laughed. “It was a prank on  _ Luci— _ I don’t care how mean it was, he deserved it.” Gabe turned back to Charlie. “That was a good one. We’ll have to hang out after all this and talk some more. I like you.”

Before she could say anything, Sam spoke up. “Okay, we’re on the clock here.”

Everyone got serious, with the exception of Gabe and they chatted a bit in low tones about their next plans of action. They all froze when a server approached their table. She was a slender blonde with a no-nonsense air and Charlie took a hot second to admire the curve of her body under the boyish tank and tight jeans. “Hey,” the girl said, looking at Cas. “I see you found Dean.”

“I did,” Cas replied.

Dean glanced at Castiel questioningly as the waitress eyed him up. “Saw your warehouse burned down,” she remarked with a bitter edge.

“I’m sure we have you to thank for that, don’t we?” Cas glared at her. 

She shrugged and Charlie was taken aback by the venom in Dean’s voice as he said, “Did you have something to do with that Jo?”

The woman named Jo shrugged. “Blue eyes here wasn’t the only hottie looking for you. Though the English guy turned me down as well—I swear, men these days have no taste.”

“You know what, Jo?” Dean snapped. “Fuck off and send Ash or your mom over to take our order.”

“Dean,” Jo exclaimed.

“Now,” Cas barked at her. 

It was almost amusing how quickly she scurried away from them. “What a bitch,” Charlie commented lightly once they were alone. The men at the table all looked like storm clouds and she wanted to ease the tension. It worked enough to get them planning once more until a rail-thin man with an impressive mullet popped up and took their order. He introduced himself as Doctor Badass and did a complicated handshake with Dean. Charlie snickered to herself, putting a face with the guy she’d pranked. 

“Is there any other way to access this information?” Sam asked, poking a fork at his overflowing bowl of lettuce. “I’m not a fan of sending two civilians and Charlie into a hostile situation.”

“I’m not either, but we don’t have much of a choice,” Dean said, talking around his food.

“I’m not exactly a ‘civilian’ either,” Cas added. “I may not be an agent, but I assure you that I’m probably much deadlier than either of you.”

“He ain’t lying,” Gabriel said.

There was a long silence as they ate and considered Castiel’s statement. Finally, Charlie pushed her basket of fries away and said, “I know you don’t like this,” she addressed the Winchesters. “But I trust Cas with my life. And there’s no one else that can hack through the firewalls and protections that I’m sure have been set up to keep people like me out of Grace’s mainframe. It’s going to be fun.”

Dean watched her closely. “Okay, fine,” he said. “If you’re cool with it then it’s a go. Cas, you do what you have to and keep her safe. She’s family.” Charlie’s heart melted just a bit at the words. 

“Understood,” was all Castiel said.

They quickly finished their meal and finalized their plan of action. Castiel and Gabe would bring Charlie along with them when they returned to the house. Cas would tell their father and the police that he tracked Gabriel to the hotel they’d stayed at and would come home as soon as they were able. Their hope was that everyone would be so distracted by Gabriel’s safe return that no one would notice a red-headed hacker breaking into Chuck’s office. 

The fun part was that not only were they sneaking around the Novak’s security, but also the cops who’d been searching for Gabriel. Talk about a mission to shut down the tractor beam! She was well aware of the danger, but Charlie still had excitement bubbling up inside of her. 

“So,” she turned to Gabriel. “You ready to go home?” A dramatic groan and a few head bangs on the table was the only response she got.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The Novak Family Crypt was located near the back of their sprawling property. Lucifer liked to come here when he needed some peace and quiet. His brothers thought having a private cemetery in their yard was ‘creepy;’ and God didn’t care about anyone except himself, so why would he come to mourn the lost?

The immediate family had places inside the above ground crypt, while lesser members and favorite employees were buried normally in the surrounding area. Lucifer was seated on a long stone bench, chucking small stones at the headstone nearest to him. It was his mother’s. He still hadn’t forgiven her for dying and had the habit of defiling her marker when he visited. It was all perfectly normal. 

He could hear the soft footfalls of someone approaching from the direction of the house and he sincerely hoped that it wasn’t another staff member relaying Chuck’s desire to have Lucifer come inside. “What do you want?” Lucifer’s tone was neutral, but his eyes were defiant.

“Sir, we have just received word from your brother,” Gordon said.

Lucifer turned and grinned toothily at the corrupt detective that he now owned. “Is that so? Which one?”

“Castiel,” Gordon said. “He found Gabriel and is bringing him home. They should arrive within an hour.”

“Little Cassie found Gabe,” Lucifer mused. “How interesting. Did he say anything else?”

Detective Walker shook his head. “No, sir.”

“I suppose that my father requests an audience?”

“He does.”

“Very well,” Lucifer turned away. He let Gordon stew in the silence for a while before saying, “How are you planning to fix this, Walker?”

“I’m...I’m not sure. But I will.”

“Of course you will,” Lucifer purred. “And don’t worry that you can’t figure out how—not all of us are born strategists. For every general, we need soldiers to follow our orders. You’re going to be a good soldier for me, aren’t you, Detective Walker?”

“Anything you need, Mr. Novak.”

“Good answer,” Lucifer gave him the curve of a smile. “Since we are reasonably sure that Gabriel has been in contact with Sam Wesson, we are going to need to talk to my little brother. But we can’t do it here with the cops and, more importantly, dear old daddy, around.” 

He made sure that Gordon was paying attention as he laid out the next few steps of their plan. Once he was sure that even Walker couldn’t fuck things up, he dismissed the detective, telling him that he would join Chuck in a few minutes.

As he listened to Gordon leave on his way back to the manor, Lucifer considered what was going to be happening in the next few hours. Soon, he would have exactly what he deserved and no one—not even his father—would be standing in his way. 

A genuine smile split his lips as Lucifer chucked another sharp rock at his mother’s headstone. It hit dead center of her name, the sound echoing through the silence of the tiny graveyard. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Castiel had a lifetime of experience dealing with his brother and all that entailed. He loved Gabriel, but he also knew that sometimes his sibling was a trial to handle. Gabriel was usually best taken in small doses, his exuberance and full commitment to his emotions could start a chain reaction at the drop of a hat.

As they drove home, he could see Gabriel wriggling around in the passenger seat, obviously anxious. His nerves were affecting Charlie in the back, who was biting her nails down to the quick and babbling random Harry Potter trivia at them. “You both need to pull yourselves together,” Castiel broke the tension the next time Charlie paused for a breath.

“We are,” Gabe said, bouncing his knee. “I am.”

“I’m not,” Charlie sighed. 

“I’m aware,” Castiel looked at her in the rear view mirror. 

“Look, bro,” Gabriel said with a hint of heat. “I’m doing this for Sam—I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

“As long as you don’t say anything too insane, we should be fine,” Cas replied. “Just stick to the plan.”

“Right. The plan,” Charlie squeaked from the back. “Holy...that’s no moon,” she said as they pulled through the gates into the drive and the Novak estate loomed before them.

“Home sweet home,” Gabriel grumbled. 

There were several police officers gathered out front, obviously waiting for them. Some wore uniforms, but a few had on poorly fitting suits—the detectives. Castiel hoped that they didn’t attempt to stop him from entering the house again. It  _ had  _ been two days, and he found that most law enforcement’s memories weren’t the greatest.

What didn’t surprise either him or his brother, was the fact that their father was nowhere to be seen. Of course Chuck wouldn’t demean himself to wait in the yard, no matter that his son was returning from a kidnapping ordeal. It was beneath him. Cas exchanged a glance with Gabe and knew that they were on the same page in regards to Chuck’s absence. 

Castiel pulled up right in front of the door and parked. The three of them took a second to breathe before exiting the car—they all knew that once they stepped outside that it was showtime. No room for error. 

All three reached for the car door handles at the same time and were immediately set upon by the assembled cops. They were most interested in Gabriel, and were trying to herd him toward the house, as though if he remained out in the open he would vanish again.

They were ushered into the mansion, the doors closing behind them ominously. In the center of the marble foyer, Chuck stood before them in his red jacket that he favored when working from home. His arms spread wide as soon as he saw Gabriel, and the look of relief on his face at the sight of his middle son was  _ almost  _ believable. Castiel knew better. Gabriel did as well, which was why he hesitated before allowing Chuck to embrace him.

“Gabriel, my son,” Chuck said, lightly holding Gabe. “I’m so glad to see you safe.”

Standing off to the side with Charlie, Cas watched as Gabriel wiggled enough for their father to release him. “We were all so worried about you.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said. It was almost bitter enough to be noticed.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek when Chuck glared at him and said, “Thank you for finding your brother, Castiel. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, father.”

A loud groan came from Gabe. “For fuck’s sake, Daddy-o, I can take the blame for my own stupidity. Cas isn’t at fault here.”

“We agree to disagree then,” Chuck said. “It is Castiel’s responsibility to keep us all safe—he knows what he’s done wrong.”

Seeing that Gabriel was going to keep arguing, Cas met his brother’s eye and silently begged him to stop. Surprisingly enough, Gabriel simply shrugged and backed off with a quiet, “Whatever.”

“Come into the parlor, and have a seat,” Chuck said. “Lucifer is waiting and he’s been beside himself about this entire situation.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Novak,” one of the detectives interrupted. 

“What is it, Hendrickson?”

“We also need to speak with Gabriel and find out what happened, see if we can catch the men who kidnapped him.”

“Of course,” Chuck said tightly. “Feel free to join us.” 

They all followed Chuck into the formal sitting room that he used for entertaining when he felt the need. Just as they piled into the room to see Lucifer lounging in a soft white leather chair, Chuck pulled up short and turned around to face them. His eyes immediately alighted on Charlie, who he didn’t recognize, and Cas knew that the next words from his father’s mouth could destroy their entire mission.

“And who is this young lady?” Chuck sounded pleasant, but his sons knew better. The tone and tight smile showed their father’s suspicious nature and it did not bode well for Charlie. “You boys weren’t going to introduce me?”

There was just enough of a pause for Gabriel to jump in and stir up his usual mischief. “Oh this is Celeste,” he chirped, squeezing in between Castiel and Charlie. He clapped hands on their backs and pulled both of them closer, ignoring the uncomfortable looks on both of their faces. “She’s Cas’ girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Charlie squeaked. 

Chuck narrowed his eyes and looked between them. “Girlfriend?”

Stuck between a rock and Gabriel, Cas sighed internally. “Yes,” he agreed, feeling a throbbing headache forming behind his eyes. “We are...lovers.”

“Ew,” Charlie whispered. Thankfully, Chuck didn’t seem to hear. 

Cas held eye contact with his father for what seemed to be an eternity until Chuck finally said, “I assume that you have already run the proper checks on her before you started dating?”

“Of course, father,” Cas lied smoothly.

“Yup, he checked me out thoroughly,” Charlie joined in, her lips pinched, and her eyes darting nervously. “Just like a library book...only sexy.”

Next to him, Gabriel gave up and burst into giggles, which didn’t help in any way. Cas pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “She has been vetted by Frank,” he addressed his father. “It doesn’t get more invasive than one of his searches. She’s fine.”

Chuck seemed to consider, eyeing up Charlie until she squirmed before turning to his youngest. “Very well. But she is here on your word. If something goes wrong, it’s on your head Castiel.”

“Of course, father.”

Chuck spun on his heel and took his favorite chair by the massive stone fireplace. It looked like a throne, which was probably part of the reason Chuck favored it. Gabriel said that their father was obviously compensating for something, while Lucifer envied it and always spoke of how one day it would be  _ his  _ seat. Castiel just found it pretentious. As their father sat, Cas moved with Charlie to join but stopped when Chuck held up his hand. “Castiel, perhaps you would care to show your  _ girlfriend _ to you rooms. The detectives and I would like to speak with your brother. Alone.”

It was the perfect opportunity to get out of there with Charlie while Chuck was occupied and Cas wasn’t going to waste it. He nodded and led Charlie toward the hall. Just as he was about to exit, his father called him. “Oh, Castiel,” Chuck said. “You haven’t seen Arthur around, have you?”

The question was loaded and Cas knew it. He was certain that Chuck knew something, which made this whole endeavor even more risky. Either way, with Ketch out of the picture in federal custody, Castiel knew that the remainder of his father’s security were no match for him. They would move forward with the plan, but Cas meant to be much more watchful. Using the small amount of deceptive ability that Gabriel had practically beat into him over the years, Castiel tilted his head and watched Chuck’s eyes. “I have not,” he replied. “If I run into him, I will inform Ketch that you wish to speak with him.”

He didn’t allow himself to blink as Chuck’s gaze roamed over his face, flickering to Charlie and then Gabe. “Excellent,” Chuck finally said. “Very good, thank you, son.” As soon as Chuck waved his hand in dismissal, Cas and Charlie beat their exit and hurried away, leaving Gabriel to the wolves. Cas was certain that his brother could handle it. Misdirection and manipulation were some of Gabriel’s specialties after all.

“Suck an elf,” Charlie quoted her favorite miniseries. “What the hell was Gabriel thinking? I almost blew it when he told your dad we were dating. I mean, come on,” Charlie gestured at him. “We’re both super gay—doesn’t your dad know that?”

“I’ve never felt the need to come out to my family,” Cas said, hurrying her along toward Chuck’s office. “Besides, I’m probably more bisexual. I did date Meg for all those years in college.”

“That was weird though,” Charlie argued. “Whatever. Why would Gabe do that though?”

“Honestly,” Cas glanced around to make sure they were alone as the two of them approached their destination. “He did what was best. There weren’t many options that would have my father allowing you to stay. Had I introduced you as a friend he would have smiled politely and kicked you out on your ass.”

“Seriously?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “I knew Chuck was a criminal, I didn’t expect him to be a dick parent as well.”

“Lucifer had to get his sparkling personality from somewhere,” Cas keyed in the master code for his father’s office, opening the inner sanctum of God.

“Cas, was that a joke?” Charlie beamed at him as she stepped inside. As Castiel closed the door behind them, Charlie gaped at the room. “Welcome to the heart of the Death Star,” she murmured.

“Charlie,” Cas motioned toward the desk, where his father’s personal setup was located. She quickly hopped over and got to work.

Once she passed through the basics and onto Chuck’s desktop, she let out a low whistle. “You never told me that your IT guy was Frank Fracking Devereaux!”

“You know Frank?”

“Only through the legend,” Charlie said as she worked. “We called him The Poltergeist. He’d get into anything, totally invisible and mess shit up—badly. I actually used some of his techniques for my senior thesis in college. Rumor has it that he used to be CIA but went rogue. He’s never been caught.”

“He never worked for the CIA,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “And he  _ was  _ caught.” Charlie looked up at him with wide eyes. “There’s just no record because my father offered him a deal. Come work for God and he’d make sure there was no trace of Frank on any government files. Frank’s brilliant but he’s also a paranoid whack-o to an extent. He jumped on my father’s offer.”

Charlie got back to work, occasionally humming as her fingers flew across the keyboard. After what seemed like an eternity she squealed softly. “I got it!”

Leaning down to peer over her shoulder, Castiel saw the start of the electronic trail that would bring down his father’s corrupt universe. While he felt a small stab at his betrayal toward his blood, he couldn’t help but be filled with immense relief that Sam, Dean, and even Crowley, would soon have their justice. Perhaps they were all going to make it out of here in one price. “Excellent,” he said to his friend. 

The download began and Charlie smiled cheekily up at him. “Wow,” Charlie breathed. “Well, after very careful consideration, I've come to the conclusion that your new defense system sucks. Frank’s losing his touch.”

“Frank’s losing his mind, would be more accurate,” Castiel replied. “There’s only so long you can wear a tin-foil hat and live in Grace’s parking garage before you leave reality behind.”

“He’s still a genius,” Charlie said, turning back to the computer. 

For the next few minutes she clicked away at the keys and made little noises of excitement. Castiel let her work, and kept his eyes on the entrances and his fingers on the butt of his gun, prepared for any interruption. They were so very close. And in Castiel’s experience, the home stretch was always when things tended to go sideways. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Gabriel had started out on this particular scheme, he’d had a basic scenario in his mind of how it was going to end. Sure, he knew that his hopes were just that—dreams. And he was prepared that most likely things wouldn’t be as wonderful as he wished, but he still held out hope. 

When he closed his eyes at night in those dingy rented rooms, or when he shut himself into the darkness of his own trunk, Gabriel could see what he desperately hoped would happen. He’d smile as his father rushed to him with a tear-streaked face and hugged him tightly, telling Gabriel how much he loved him. 

It was a truly beautiful end to the entire ordeal.

Now that Gabe was ‘rescued’ and sitting across from his father, he knew without a doubt that all of his planning, all of his sacrifice, had been for nothing. His father was reacting to him in the exact same way that he always had. Fake platitudes and casual indifference, as though Gabriel’s very existence was inconvenient for the great Chuck Novak. 

At least he’d gotten a hug. 

It was the first one Chuck had given him since Gabriel’s college graduation—and that had only been done because there were cameras. Although Gabe wasn’t sure that this one was much better since it had been done solely for the sake of the police presence. 

Subtly glancing at the three cops in the room, Gabriel tried to figure out which one was in charge. It didn’t take long for his question to be answered when the tall, serious looking man in the least-offensive suit began directing the other two. The gangly uniform who looked like a teenager was sent to stand by the entrance, while the other plainclothes hovered just over Gabe’s shoulder. 

Something about that one gave Gabriel an odd feeling. It took him a moment to place, but suddenly it hit him. The other officer was Detective Gordon Walker. Rumor had it that Chuck and Luci had a few cops on the payroll and Walker was one of them. For as much as he tried to stay out of the family business, Gabriel had seen Gordon Walker skulking around before. 

The cop in charge turned to him and said, “I’m Detective Victor Henrickson. We’ve been looking for you, Mr. Novak.”

“Gabriel,” he corrected. Jerking his head toward his father, Gabe said, “ _ He’s  _ Mr. Novak.”

“Very well,” Henrickson agreed. “Do you have any idea who was holding you for the last few days?”

“No,” Gabe shook his head, the lie sliding easily through his lips. “I never saw anyone’s face.”

“How many were there?”

A casual shrug. “I don’t know. Three? Four?”

“Any distinguishing characteristics?”

Another shrug. “Caucasian males, average height, no accents that I could make out.”

“And you never saw any of their faces?” Henrickson was staring at him and something about his intense gaze made Gabriel defensive. 

He sat up straighter in his seat and said, “No,” in a firm tone.

“You don’t know much, do you, little brother?” Lucifer said with a smirk as he examined his fingernails and pretended to be bored by the entire situation. 

“Oh,  _ I’m sorry _ ,” Gabe sneered at his older sibling. “Next time I end up kidnapped I’ll take notes.”

“Maybe next time you’re kidnapped you won’t come back,” Lucifer glared at him. 

“Children!” Chuck didn’t yell, but both of them quieted immediately. “That’s enough.” 

When their father glared at Lucifer and ordered him to say how relieved he was that Gabriel was safe, it was an effort for Gabe not to roll his eyes in response. Instead, he said thank you, and then he and Lucifer flipped each other off when their father wasn’t looking. Ah, family.

Henrickson watched him carefully and if Gabriel hadn’t been raised on God’s withering looks—or was a less talented liar—he might have been intimidated. “How’d these men manage to get both you and your car?”

Lips twitching in a show of amusement, Gabe said, “I’m not the biggest dude, Detective. It doesn’t take four guys to jump me coming out of the mall by myself.” The lie was so smooth that Gabriel was even fooling himself. “Two of them cornered me while I was getting into my car. Held me at gunpoint and shoved me in the back. They took off and I’ve been tied up in a cold dark room somewhere ever since.”

There was a collective silence as everyone in the room regarded him. In an effort to not fidget, Gabriel repeatedly curled his toes inside his boots.  _ ‘Come on,’  _ he thought.  _ ‘Just buy it.’  _ The harsh thumps of his heart seemed to speed up as Gabriel felt every nerve in his body on edge, waiting.

Henrickson hummed and narrowed his eyes. “Did they ever have conversations in front of you? Would you remember anything they might have said that could help us out?”

Everyone in the room, including the officer at the door was staring at him, silently begging for an answer. Which was why none of them noticed Charlie like her head around the corner and flick the side of her nose at him. The quick look he had of her over the shoulder of the uniformed cop was enough for Gabriel to know that Charlie had what she came for and was on her way out. Cas was nowhere to be seen. 

At the sight of Charlie’s signal, Gabriel internally relaxed. Okay, this was good—this was  _ working _ . Realizing that he still hadn’t spoken and now looked suspicious he forced a large fake yawn and shot a pleading gaze at Chuck. “Dad, I’m just so overwhelmed,” he lied. “I think I need to lay down for a bit before we keep going.”

Chuck seemed to agree, though Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure why. “Gentlemen,” he addressed the detectives, “We can revisit this later. After my son has had a chance to rest.”

“Of course, Mr. Novak,” Henrickson said, though he seemed displeased about the turn of events. 

Taking the opportunity to flee, Gabriel stood abruptly. He’d get to his room, grab a few of his prized possessions and some clothes and hightail it out the window he used to sneak out of as a teen. Sam and Dean were positioned about a mile down the road and once he was back in his Sammy’s arms, they could figure out what their next move was. 

Unfortunately, nothing ever seemed to go Gabriel’s way when it came to planning. Before he could take one step, his infuriating brother cleared his throat. “Perhaps one of the detectives could accompany Gabriel to his room,” Lucifer suggested. “Just for everyone’s piece of mind. Father was beside himself at your abduction, Gabriel—I’m sure you understand.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” of course Chuck agreed with his oldest—the  _ favorite  _ son.

Gabriel had to quickly force away the snarl that Lucifer’s suggestion gave him. “I’ll be fi—“

“Excellent, that’s settled then,” his father interrupted. 

Lucifer was grinning at him and Gabriel wanted nothing more than to punch his sibling square in the nose. That meddlesome, pretentious, bag of  _ dicks _ ! “Yeah, sure,” Gabe relented. 

“Detective Walker?” Lucifer gestured at the other cop. “Take Gabriel to his rooms please.”

“Of course, sir,” Walker smiled.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the detective, but didn’t put up a fight. It wasn’t like the guy was going to come into his room and spy on him. “Super dupes,” Gabe said with false cheer. “Follow me.”

Saying a quick goodbye to his father and ignoring Lucifer, Gabe beat a hasty retreat, Gordon following close behind. As he wove through the familiar hallways of his childhood home, Gabriel mentally planned how to get out as quickly as possible in order to meet up with the Winchesters. Most likely Charlie was with them by now, and maybe Cas as well. 

As they approached the door to Gabe’s room, Gordon spoke up from behind him. “You’re taking this whole thing pretty good,” the detective observed in a faux-casual tone. “I would have thought you’d be half out of your mind with fear by now. You never struck me as the strongest of Novaks.”

“There’s different kinds of strength, Walker,” Gabe snorted.  _ ‘What a douche.’ _

“You also look pretty clean for a man who’s apparently been tied up on the ground for almost a week,” Gordon said, trailing behind him. 

“Yeah, well, Cas got me a hotel room on the road last night so that I could shower,” Gabriel sneered. Something about Walker had always rubbed him the wrong way, and he wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated. Especially by someone supposedly working for his father. It was like being lectured by his nanny—slightly amusing and pointless. He stopped directly in front of his bedroom door and glared at the detective. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

Walker smiled. He looked like a fucking shark, but Gabriel refused to look unnerved. “Nah,” Gordon said after a beat. “I’m sure we’ll talk more later.”

“Awesome,” Gabe said sarcastically. “It’s a date. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a power nap.” Without another word, Gabriel looked away and grabbed the door handle. 

He was just about to open the door when muscular arms snaked around him, holding him firm. Before he had a chance to cry out, a slightly damp rag smelling of a pungent sweetness was pressed to his nose and mouth. His vision went black and the last thought in Gabriel’s mind was of Sam.

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie fangirling over Frank and his hacking skills made me laugh so much. I want to see what the two of them would get up to--pretty sure they'd take over the world.


	13. Family Feud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distress, Dogs, and Double-Crosses...Everything becomes complicated when family is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There are descriptions of torture in this chapter (the very last section in Gabriel's POV) Nothing happens in this chapter, but the description of what is PLANNED for Gabriel is pretty inventive and detailed. Just FYI.

When Castiel rejoined his father and Lucifer, they had both already started in on their after lunch cocktail hour. Castiel had made certain that Charlie was off of the property and safely with the Winchesters before he checked in on his family. 

The police presence had tapered off now that there wasn’t an active kidnapping case. When Cas had left Charlie with Sam and Dean, Gabriel hadn’t yet arrived. He knew that his brother wanted to grab a few of his things and would sneak out of the house. Cas was also aware that his brother’s escape route was his usual method: jump out of his window into a nearby tree like a flying squirrel and shimmy down to the ground. It was endlessly amusing that Gabriel still thought no one knew about his routine for sneaking out. It wasn’t as though he’d changed it since high school.

Making a point to check his brother’s rooms before heading back to the parlor, Cas was satisfied to see that Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. That meant that he was probably with the Winchesters and out of harm's way for the time being. Castiel could breathe easy for a little while. He still sent off a text to Dean asking that they inform him when they had Gabriel.

Passing on his father’s offer of a drink, Castiel perched on the edge of the long sofa and listened to Chuck and Lucifer discuss the current situation. It wasn’t long before Cas simply tuned them out. All Lucifer and Father ever did was argue—eventually it took a toll on one’s sanity.

All three of the Novak men looked up as Detective Henrickson abruptly entered the room. “Has Detective Walker been through here?” 

Three negative head shakes and Chuck responding that he hadn’t seen Walker since he’d accompanied Gabriel to his bedroom had Cas’ internal alarms going off. Apparently it was enough to worry Henrickson as well. “I can’t raise him on the radio,” the Detective told them. “No one has seen him and he’s not answering his cell.”

Castiel and the Detective shared a look before Lucifer spoke up. His legs dangled over the arm of his chair and he kicked the leather with his heels, sounding bored out of his mind. “Walker is probably upstairs with Gabriel, hovering outside his door so that no one runs off with the obnoxious little douche again.”

“No,” Henrickson and Cas spoke at the same time. The Detective narrowed his eyes for a split second before saying, “I just checked up there. Gabriel isn’t in his room and Gordon is nowhere to be found.”

“They have to be here somewhere,” Chuck said. “I have the best security money can buy at this house. Not to mention the place is crawling with all of you law enforcement types.”

Henrickson shook his head absently as he presumably tried calling Detective Walker once again. Even from where he sat across the room, Castiel could hear the phone ringing on the other end of the call—no answer.

There was a prickle at the base of Cas’ skull and he just knew that something hadn’t gone to plan. Without another thought, he typed out another message to Dean asking if they had his brother yet. Twenty seconds later, Cas felt the floor drop out from under him at Dean’s response of,  _ ‘Haven’t seen him. Supposed to be here an hour ago. WTF is going on over there?’ _

He weighed his options. With Gabriel missing— _ again _ —Castiel felt backed into a corner. Making up his mind, he texted Dean once more asking if they had the proof they needed from Charlie. At the affirmative response, Cas knew what he had to do. 

He called Sam.

The younger Winchester had exchanged phone numbers with Castiel back at the motel before they headed out for Angel’s Breath. They’d both figured that it would be good to remain in contact since Gabriel didn’t have a phone and refused to tell any of them where he’d left it. That, in itself, was suspicious. His brother was glued to his smartphone as though it were an extra limb. 

They’d intended for Cas to be able to message Sam if he needed to get in touch with his brother; but just then, Castiel was simply glad that he had a way to contact Sam himself. He didn’t completely trust Dean to throw away their anonymity, but Cas knew that Sam would come running if he thought that Gabe was in danger.

In front of his family, Castiel put an unofficial call into the Feds. “Cas?” Sam sounded confused. “Did you mean to call me?”

He could hear Dean in the background telling Sam to hand over his phone. “I did,” Castiel replied. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam was anxious, it was obvious. “Cas? Where’s Gabe? He isn’t here yet.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” Castiel said. 

“Who are you talking to Castiel?” Chuck asked.

Ignoring his father, Castiel only said, “Gabriel is gone. Get over here now—and bring Dean.” He hung up before Sam could protest. Turning to Henrickson, Cas gave him a thin smile, “I’ve sent for the cavalry, Detective. You’ll thank me later.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam didn’t register anything that Dean said. The connection to Cas had ended and all that Sam knew was that Gabriel was in trouble. Nothing—not even Dean physically restraining him—was going to keep Sam from his newfound love. He had just found Gabriel, and he had no intention of losing him now.

A vicious threat to punch Dean right in the eye was enough for his brother to let go. As Sam grabbed his jacket, gun and badge, Dean tried to reason with him.  _ They shouldn’t blow their cover. _ Who cared? The information that Charlie and Cas had stolen off of Chuck’s computer was more than enough for an arrest—the official warrant was already in transit. Even if things could still go south on their case against God, Sam couldn’t care less. All that mattered to him was Gabriel.

Without waiting for Dean, Sam hopped out of the Impala and took off at a jog toward the Novak estate. He could hear Dean calling after him, but he ignored him and pushed on. He’d almost reached the gates of the property when he heard the low rumble of his brother’s car behind him. 

“Get in the car, Sam,” Dean called, following alongside him. When Sam didn’t reply, Dean used a different tactic. “They’re not going to open the gates for a random jogger wearing flannel, no matter what your badge says.”

That was unfortunately true, and it was also the only reason Sam finally stopped running and got back in the damn impala. “Drive, Dean.”

Clicking his tongue, Dean obliged, turning into the expansive drive of the home. “I left Charlie back there to wait for Crowley. He’s on his way now with the warrant and a squad. He was also kind enough to call ahead and smooth our way with the locals—some guy named Henrickson is expecting us.”

“Good,” Sam gnawed on his lip as the huge gates opened at a snail’s pace. 

As they rolled up the drive, Sam was grateful that Dean didn’t comment on his anxiously bouncing legs, or the fact that he was out of the car before it had fully stopped.

A tall, gangly cop was waiting for them at the entrance of the house. The fact that he was smiling under the circumstances set Sam’s teeth on edge. Usually Dean was the one with the explosive temper, but Sam had to bite back the urge to snap at the guy, and he didn’t even know the poor man. When Dean moved next to him and slapped his palm on Sam’s shoulder, reining him in, it felt unnatural. Just another reason why everything in Sam’s life felt wrong without Gabe. How could he have fallen so damn fast? 

“Looking for Henrickson,” Dean told the cop.

“You must be the Feds we’re expecting,” the cop said easily. “I’m Garth. Detective H is with the family.”

Instead of taking them inside, Garth bobbed his head and kept grinning at them. Sam could feel his fingers twitching the longer that the three of them stood there, but he couldn’t seem to articulate a sentence. Finally, Dean seemed to take pity on both of them and even tried not to snap when he said, “Mind taking us to him then, Buddy?”

“Sure, no problem.” Garth didn’t seem to pick up on the Winchester’s tension as he turned and led them into the expansive home. 

The remaining members of the Novak clan were all gathered in a large room on the ground floor. The blonde wood floors and clean-lined white furniture contrasted with the rough stone fireplace that dominated the far wall. He could feel Dean’s body stiffen as they caught sight of Chuck Novak, sitting in a massive throne-like chair, drink in hand. Any other time, Sam would have been consumed with thoughts of the man behind his parent’s death being in the same room, but today all he cared about was Gabriel. He hardly even registered that Chuck—or for that matter, Lucifer—was even there. 

“Cas,” Sam addressed the only one in the room besides Dean that he trusted. 

“We don’t know where he is, Sam,” Cas replied gravely. 

A handsome, serious faced man moved into Sam’s line of sight. He held out his hand for the brothers to shake and introduced himself as the local lawman they had been told about. The detective and Dean were conversing, but Sam wasn’t hearing anything they said. Their words were muffled, as though underwater. He tore his eyes away from Castiel and managed to take in the other two Novaks for the first time. Both God and his oldest son seemed much too calm for such a situation. Neither of them were speaking, or appearing to pay any attention—both men sipping liquor as though nothing was amiss. 

It pissed Sam off. 

Just as he was about to make a comment, the shrill sound of a phone cut through the room. The slight flare of Chuck’s nostrils as he pulled several cell phones out of his red jacket, was the only sign that God was less than pleased. Chuck isolated the phone with the incoming call and looked up at Henrickson saying, “This is my private line.”

“How many people have that number?” Dean jumped in.

Chuck eyed him, obviously untrusting. It wasn’t as though any of them had been introduced after all. Eventually he simply said, “Only my sons,” before answering the call and placing it on speaker. 

“Dad?” Gabriel sounded confused, his words slightly slurred. “Is that you? I need your help.”

“Gabriel,” Chuck said sternly. “Where are you? What’s happened?”

Everyone leaned forward, waiting for Gabriel’s explanation. “I don’t know,” he sounded so small—broken and terrified—it physically hurt Sam. “I think I’m at Grace,” Gabriel said. “I woke up here, but I can hear planes overhead.”

“He’s near the airport then,” Henrickson said quietly to Dean. “Only place around is headquarters for Grace Avionics.” 

Moving closer to Chuck, Dean joined the conversation. “Hey Gabe,” he said. “Are you alone?”

“Dean?” Gabe sounded relieved. “Where’s Sam?”

“I’m right here,” Sam’s voice cracked as he hurriedly responded. He put all of his affection into his voice as he tried to convey how much he loved Gabriel in only words. If this was the last time they spoke...Sam couldn’t think that way. “Gabe, are you okay?”

“My head hurts,” Gabriel said. There was a scratching on his end of the call and Sam immediately worried that the connection had been lost before Gabriel spoke again. “He said,” Gabe sounded terrified. “He said he wanted a million dollars or he was going to send me home in pieces. Sam!” 

Fuck, his heart broke at the panic in his lover’s voice. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Sam, please,” Gabriel said again. “Dad,” he addressed Chuck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please pay him—I think he’s going to kill me!”

“Gabriel,” Henrickson spoke up. “Where is Detective Walker? Is he alive? Is he with you?”

“Walker?” Gabriel’s laugh was bitter. “Who the hell do you think kidnapped me?”

Detective Henrickson’s eyes went wide at the accusation. Before he could speak, Gabriel shouted in pain and another voice came on the line. The words were ground out and awkwardly pitched, but Sam had no trouble recognizing Gordon’s voice. “You heard him, God. One million, cash—unmarked and non-consecutive bills. I’ll call back in two hours and give further instructions. If you don’t cooperate, then I’ll kill your little Angel.”

Without another word, the line went dead and all of them stared at one another. Sam could feel his heartbeat accelerating and tried to force himself to breathe deeply. He wanted nothing more than to scream his anguish into the ether. Gabriel was in danger and no matter how irrational it was, he couldn’t help but think that it was somehow his fault. 

Across the room, Lucifer set down his drink with a shaking hand. “I’m going to be sick,” he said in a controlled voice. “Please excuse me.” The oldest Novak sibling stood and rushed from the room. No one attempted to stop him.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the coolest head under pressure was Castiel. The emotions flickering in his eyes weren’t enough to cloud his senses in such a situation and he took control rather quickly. “We have two hours,” he said. “We need to gather our resources and make sure that when Gordon calls back, that we can appease him long enough to retrieve my brother.”

“In the meantime, I say we go check out Grace headquarters and see if Gabe really is being held there,” Dean added. 

Castiel turned to his father. “I know you have at least that amount here in the house. Can you have it ready for an exchange when Gordon calls?”

There was a charged silence as Chuck swirled the alcohol around in his glass, lips pursed. They were all watching him, waiting to see what God had to say about his missing son. After a beat, he looked up at them, cold eyes looking blank—almost lifeless. “No.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and even Dean looked shocked, but no one was more enraged at Chuck’s response than Sam. “What did you say?” He snapped. 

Those unfeeling eyes turned on Sam, and he felt the air suck out of him. Looking at Chuck Novak was like looking at a predator in the wild—horrible and unsettling. “I said no,” Chuck repeated. “I won’t be a party to these ridiculous games any longer.”

“You won’t help him,” Castiel said dully. It wasn’t a question, just a statement of resignation and disappointment.

“I’ve already spent a million dollars on Gabriel this week with nothing to show for it.” Sam could see the monster behind the man. This was the person who had ordered the death of his father; of Crowley’s little Abaddon, gone much too early. There was nothing remotely human behind the facade that God had shown them.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said, horrified. “Your  _ son  _ is in danger!”

Chuck’s face was impassive. “I don’t know that for certain,” he said coldly. “And I’m not about to waste anymore money on the ungrateful brat. When he’s done playing, he’ll come home.”

The sheer power of the rage swimming through Sam was almost too much for him to handle. His nails dug into his palms, deep enough to cut, as he did what he could to not wipe the smug look off of God’s face with a neck-snapping hit. “You’re telling me that I’ve known him for two days and I care more about him than you do? You sick son-of-a-bitch!”

“And who are you exactly?” Chuck stares at him. 

Sam knew that he couldn’t reveal all just yet. Even with their proof in the bag, he could panic Chuck and send the man running. After all, God had the ability to escape to a country without extradition in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, Dean stepped in to cover him. “We’re just friends of your sons who happen to be federal agents that were in the area.”

“I see,” Chuck sounded disbelieving. “Well, feel free to spin your wheels. As I said, Gabriel is probably fine and he’s already cost me enough money this week. Perhaps if he waits to get kidnapped next month,” Chuck trailed off, one mocking eyebrow raised. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to catch up on. Castiel,” he said as he left. “Please escort these gentlemen off of the property.”

Sam took a single step. He was going grab that pompous fuck and pin him to the wall—scream at him until he understood that his son was in  _ danger _ . Thanks to his brother, his movement was hardly noticed. Dean had arms around Sam’s shoulders, using all of his strength to keep Sam from making a career ending mistake by decking one of the richest men in the world. “Come on, Sammy,” Dean said. “He’s not going to help—we’re gonna do this our way.”

Castiel joined them and helped Dean guide Sam out to the Impala with Detective Henrickson trailing silently along behind them. “We will find Gabriel,” Cas said. “I will not allow any harm to come to my brother, and I know that you will not either.”

“We’ll get him back, Sammy,” Dean tried to calm him. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with your family, Cas?” Sam spat. 

“Many things,” Cas shrugged.

They stood around the car, trying to decide what their next course of action would be. Trying to concentrate on forcing himself to stop shaking, Sam worked his jaw and silently told himself that going back into the house and shooting Chuck between the eyes was a terrible plan. Though, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t enjoy it. 

“I’d like to offer my assistance.” They all looked up at Detective Henrickson. Standing there in a day-old, rumpled suit and utter shock written on his face, Henrickson looked both furious and determined as he threw in with them. “Something has been off about this from the beginning,” he told them. “I’m not sure what yet, but I don’t like it. And if my partner has really switched sides then I’m going to be the one to take him down.”

“We’ve been watching Detective Walker in conjunction with the Novaks for a while now,” Sam calmed enough to speak up. “I’m sorry.” Truthfully, he was. The bond between law enforcement partners was one of family and he knew that Henrickson was most likely devastated at the knowledge of Gordon’s betrayal.

“Be that as it may,” Henrickson said, lips tight. “It was my responsibility—I was the senior officer. I should have seen Gordon straying. Maybe I did,” he sighed. “But he was my friend. I’m going with you.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I wasn’t asking permission,” the Detective looked wryly at Dean. “I’m coming.”

“I can get us into Grace Property,” Cas broke into the staring contest that Dean and Henrickson were engaged in. Looking at Dean, he requested that they pull Charlie for some tech support and find out where Crowley was. 

Dean moved off to make a call to their boss and the other three stood in awkward silence next to the car. Sam absently ran his fingers along the shiny paint of the Impala’s trunk, thinking back two days earlier when he’d found the love of his life tied up inside a different vehicle. Life was strange sometimes—and wonderful.

The silence broke when Castiel interrupted his musings, saying exactly the right words to set Sam’s temper off. “Sam, perhaps you should—“

“I swear to fuck, Castiel,” Sam interrupted. “If you tell me to stay behind, I  _ will _ shoot you.”

“Very well,” Cas sighed. “I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t need help,” Sam insisted. “I need Gabriel.”

A few feet away, Dean ended his call and rejoined the others. “Right,” he clapped his hands together. “Everyone in—we’re meeting up with Crowley down the road. He’s positioned there with a warrant for Chuck’s arrest and a SWAT team.”

“Why do we need to meet with him?” Sam said irritably. “We need to get to Grace and find Gabe.”

“We’re meeting him because he asked,” Dean said evenly. “And because Crowley’s family.”

They were just wasting time, Sam knew it. But he had no other way to get to Grace's property. He also needed Cas to get inside, since he had a feeling that the guards there might have been told to turn them away, law enforcement or not. 

All four of them piled into Baby with Dean behind the wheel. Just as they were about to pull out, the back door opened and someone scooted in, pushing Castiel into the middle of the seat. “Hey guys.” It was Garth, the cop who’d met them earlier. He was still smiling, but there was an odd pitch to his tone. 

“Officer Fitzgerald, what are you doing?” Henrickson leaned over Castiel who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“I’m coming with you,” Garth said. “No offense, Detective H, but you deserve to have some back up too. I’ve been right there with you and Detective Walker fooled me too. There’s nothing I hate more than liars.” The bitter growl seemed so at odds with the sunny cop’s usual demeanor that they all looked at one another nervously. “Well?” Garth said finally. “What are you waiting for? Let’s do this!”

“Fine by me,” Dean shrugged and peeled out, heading back down the road where they’d left Charlie earlier.

In the back, Garth was smiling at Castiel who kept glancing suspiciously at the young officer. “How are you holding up, Mr. Novak?” Garth was asking. “Must be difficult, worrying about your brother.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel seemed to be at a loss. “It’s been a little while, I’ve come to terms with the fact that Gabriel will most likely be the death of me.”

“That’s no way to think,” Garth said. “You should look on the bright side more often.”

No one really knew how to respond to that, so they all remained silent. The street ahead had been blocked off with SWAT vehicles, and two ambulances, as well as the large roving van that Crowley commandeered whenever he was in the field. Dean parked and they all got out, heading into the chaos. 

Near the center of the action, Crowley was directing some of the federal agents along for the ride as they coordinated with the locals on how the operation was going to go down. In her usual place at his side, Juliet sat at attention, drawing some wary looks from people. 

They approached their boss and waited until he finished yelling at the latest person questioning his orders. Crowley exchanged quick back slapping hugs with both him and Dean before he explained that they were preparing to go in and take Chuck into custody before he could flee the country. It was a delicate operation. 

“As you can see, I have my work cut out for me here,” Crowley said. “So I won’t be able to accompany you on your little rescue mission.”

“No worries,” Dean said. “We’ve got it. Right, Sammy.”

Crowley looked up at Sam, and he could see how worried he was about them. “Look,” Crowley shuffled his feet. “I’d be right there at your side if I could.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “Taking down Chuck is just as important, I get it. We all need this.”

“Take Juliet with you,” Crowley said suddenly. 

Both Winchesters gaped at him. Crowley rarely let his precious dog leave his side. She was his whole world these days. “Crowley,” Sam whispered. 

“Look,” he said lightly. “If I can’t be there to watch your stupid Moose back, then at least my darling girl can go in my stead. Besides,” Crowley gave a sly smile. “She’s rather fond of that irritating angel. I promise that she won’t let anything happen to him as long as she can stop it. Please.”

Tears threatened to fall at the enormity of what Crowley had offered them. Sam was beyond touched—they really were family when it came down to it. Impulsively he grabbed their boss and pulled Crowley into a bone-snapping embrace. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, you lumbering oaf, Crowley gasped as he was let go. “Now go get your boy back.”

“Yes sir.”

As they all figured out transportation to Grace, Sam finally began to relax. They were on their way and he was going to save Gabriel no matter what. He climbed into the Impala with Dean, as Castiel and Juliet piled in the back. Henrickson and Garth were heading over with Charlie in her hatchback, ready to follow them. A motley crew on a rescue mission.

They drove off, leaving Crowley behind to do his own part. The thought that Chuck Novak would soon be behind bars was bittersweet when combined with the fact that Gabriel was in danger. Sam just hoped that they made it in time. There was nothing he could do for now, but be patient as they sped toward their final destination.

The world whipped by as Dean pushed the pedal and broke the speed limit. Swallowing tightly, Sam thought of Gabe and the last time he looked into those shockingly golden eyes. Sam knew that he had to keep it together. He would be no help to Gabriel if he acted impulsively and made rookie mistakes. He had to be patient, and right now, all that he could do was silently beg, “Hang on, Gabriel—I’m coming!”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Waking up in the crushing darkness of yet  _ another  _ trunk was not how Gabriel had imagined the rest of his evening going. He’d hoped that with his help, the Feds could wrap up this disaster with his father quickly and he and Sam could vamoose off to a luxurious hotel suite. One that had a jacuzzi tub and room service. 

As he slowly gained focus upon waking, Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to dispel the throbbing ache in his temples. His mouth was dry as cotton and his stomach bubbled with nausea. The last thing he remembered was talking to Detective Walker and then—boom, nothing. Fucking Gordon! If he was double crossing the Novak family, then the full wrath of God and Lucifer would rain down upon him. Gabriel managed a grim smile at the thought. 

The car wasn’t moving, which meant that he didn’t have much time before Gordon would come to get him; unless he had been left in a junkyard or some other equally cliché location. Fingers grabbing blindly for the interior emergency handle found nothing and Gabriel felt his panic begin to rise. He had to get out of here!

There was a muffled scrape just outside of the car, and it brought Gabriel up short. He froze, his fingers like claws and his heart pounding. There was a beep and then the trunk was open; too bright light pouring in and momentarily blinding him. When Gabe had finally blinked away the blurred spots from his vision, he immediately focused on the gun pointed at his head.

“Good afternoon, Detective Walker,” Gabriel forced himself to sound chipper through the haze of lingering drugs and terror. He refused to give this dick bag the satisfaction of seeing him scared. 

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Gordon ignored him. “This is a tranquilizer gun, and I made sure to get the biggest darts available. You are going to get out of the trunk and do  _ exactly _ as I tell you. One wrong move and I put one right in your cheek.” The cop pressed the cold metal of the barrel to Gabriel’s face, making his point. “Understood?”

The last thing he wanted to do was answer the fucker, but he also didn’t want a dart sticking out of his head. Managing a short nod, Gabe clenched his jaw and said “Got it, bucko—loud and clear.”

“Good. Now shut up and get going, Novak.”

Pushing himself up and climbing over the edge of the trunk, Gabriel’s eyes never wavered from the tranq gun aimed at him. Gordon looked colder and more detached than usual and Gabe knew that it didn’t bode well for him. He knew who Walker was—knew his name and his face. None of that was a good thing. He was beginning to get the feeling that he might not walk away from this. 

As his feet hit the pavement, his knee cracked from the awkward position in the trunk and Gabriel winced. Once he had his balance, Detective Walker shoved a pay-as-you-go cell phone at him and said, “Call him.”

“Call who?” Gabe fiddled with the cheap phone.

“You know damn well who,” Gordon said. “Call God. Now. And make sure you get to talk to him. If it goes to voicemail,” he waved the weapon in front of Gabe’s nose. “I’ll put you out again.”

Knowing full well that the only way to make sure he got through to his father was to call the backup, emergency, private, ‘Don’t-Ever-Use-This-Unless-You’re-Dying’ number, Gabriel made up his mind and dialed from memory. 

The call was short. Walker had given him a crumpled paper with instructions on it and Gabe had done his best to stick to the script. He did manage to slip in a few hints; and he’d got to hear Sam’s voice, which helped. When the detective snatched the phone from him and left Chuck with an ominous threat and a disconnected line, Gabriel tried not to shudder. None of this was how he planned this whole escapade going. Ever since he’d climbed into his own trunk—was it two days ago?—everything had unraveled. 

“Okay Novak,” Gordon said. “Now you can shut up and get moving.”

“Are you really going to filet me?” Gabriel didn’t think the detective had it in him, but he also hadn’t seen him as a kidnapper either. 

Walker ignored him and waved the gun as he barked, “Move.”

Allowing himself to be herded toward what looked like an airplane hanger, Gabriel took the opportunity to glance around. He was honestly surprised when the sign on the building’s door indicated that they were on Grace Avionics’ property. Why would Gordon bring him here? And why would he have told him to mention it during the phone call? It made no sense—at least not to Gabe. Someone was bound to check the company after a while—especially when Gabriel had specifically given the clue. It seemed reckless, which also didn’t bode well for Gabe’s well-being. 

Gabriel opened the door, feeling the barrel of the gun digging into his back between his shoulder blades. He sucked in some air, knowing that no one would be inside to help him, but unable to let go of the small kernel of hope he still held on to. Inside, he knew he was screwed. Just as he’d suspected, the place was empty, save for the old helicopter that his father only used in emergencies. 

The gun pressed into his spine, pushing him forward. The detective walked him over to a large metal support pole and stopped. “What now, Gordy?” Gabriel turned around slowly, arms raised, to face his captor. He kept his sneer in place so that it wouldn’t be too obvious that he was shaking.

“Don’t call me that, you little punk ass bitch,” Gordon snapped. He lowered the tranq gun slightly to reach around and unhook his police issue handcuffs from his belt. 

Gabriel watched his every move, desperate for an opening. His hands were grabbed roughly and Gordon shoved him up against the pole. When Gabe’s back hit metal, Walker pulled his arms behind him, on either side of the support. When the cuffs clicked into place, Gabriel’s heart skipped with pure terror. 

Stepping away, Gordon holstered the tranquilizer gun next to his regular weapon and smiled grotesquely at his handiwork. “Don’t go anywhere now,” Gordon laughed sickly. “I have a few calls to make and we’ll get this show rolling. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself—always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” Gabriel was furious that he was too scared to come up with his usual brand of snappy one-liners. The worst part was that Gordon seemed to realize that, and it made Gabe’s blood boil. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed with Gordon on the other end of the hanger having hushed discussions into his phone, while Gabriel twisted and yanked at the handcuffs. There was no give, and he wasn’t sure what he could do. He’d seen movies where people dislocated their thumbs to slip out of handcuffs, but he didn’t have any clue how to go about doing that. With his hands behind him, it wasn’t as though he had much leverage to forcibly pop out a joint. Besides, just the thought made him shudder and gag. 

Giving one last powerful tug, Gabriel slumped as nothing happened with the exception of the metal biting into his skin. His wrists were raw and burning from his struggles. Between the pain, and the smothering hopelessness, Gabriel felt himself falling into an even deeper panic. He was seriously considering resigning himself to his fate when the door of the hanger opened and Lucifer walked in. 

The relief at seeing his big brother washed through him and Gabe sagged against the pole. Lucifer moved almost silently toward him, while Walker chatted on the other side of the helicopter, oblivious. When Lucifer was a few feet away, Gabriel took the chance to whisper, “Damn, Luci—you don’t know how good it is to see you. Fucking Walker snatched me—he’s a traitor. We’ve gotta get out of here, bro.” Lucifer stopped just short of him and crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Gabriel with an unfathomable expression. He wasn’t moving to assist and Gabriel was confused. He leaned forward, as much as the cuffs would allow and hissed, “Lu—what are you waiting for? Help me!”

His brother didn’t speak, but his icy blue eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a sinister smile that was incredibly unsettling. Gabriel’s entire body felt cold as his brother simply stared at him with that creepy fucking grin. Across the hanger, Gordon ended his call and moved into view. Gabe’s heart sank as he realized the window of opportunity was gone, now that Walker had seen Lucifer. “Luci, run,” Gabe begged. “Don’t let him get you too. Get out of here. Tell Cas where I am, he’ll know what to do.” His brother wasn’t leaving and Gabriel huffed in frustration as Gordon moved closer. “I’m not kidding Lucifer—get out of here while you still can!”

“You’re just... _ adorable _ , aren’t you?” Lucifer purred. 

The words sunk in slowly, and Gabriel found himself looking between his brother and the cop who’d kidnapped him. Walker stood shoulder to shoulder with Lucifer, both of them smiling as the realization dawned in Gabriel’s eyes. “What the  _ fuck _ ?” He hissed. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Deadly,” Lucifer said. “Gordon here almost shot everything to shit by getting those bastard Feds on our tail, but they’ll be busy chasing after daddy while I tie up some loose ends and finally get what I deserve.”

“I hope it’s a kick in the balls,” Gabe snapped. The idea that his brother, his flesh and blood—his  _ family _ —had set him up to be fucking kidnapped gave him enough anger to fight through the fear. 

“Nope,” Lucifer said. “Good guess though.” He turned to Gordon and said, “I’m shocked that you managed to do your part without a massive fuckup.” The detective glared, but was wise enough to stay silent. “The timing of your ransom call was perfect. Everyone is all riled up and I used the opportunity to slip out unobserved.” Gabriel’s heart stuttered and he swallowed dryly at his brother’s next words. “I had thought that your lapse may have cost me too much—but thankfully, it just made everything easier. Men who are desperate to hang on to their own pathetic life are willing to do just about anything. Even outing themselves and destroying their safe little world where everyone thought they were a hero. Did you know that, little brother?”

When Lucifer looked back at him, he didn’t even  _ look  _ like the big brother that Gabe tried to remember childhood. He was fully, utterly, the creature that their father had created from the ashes of his eldest son. Gabe didn’t know when Lucifer had turned into the twisted, maladjusted man before him—but he knew that it had happened long ago. Gabriel just hadn’t wanted to see it. He’d watched as his brother did unspeakable things and buried his head in the sand, hoping that one day, Lucifer would change. Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

“Thanks to Detective Walker, I have  _ you _ ,” Lucifer said. “And Castiel was kind enough to bring in those Federal Agents, which should wrap up my ‘Daddy Issues’ nice and neat.”

“What?” Gabriel was still trying to piece things together, and it seemed too far beyond reality for him to accept. 

“Yes,” his brother grinned. “Those two strapping young suits barged in and took over once you went missing. I’m sure they’ll arrest our father any minute.” Lucifer smirked. “He can spend the rest of his short life behind bars while I take over Grace and finally have my due.”

“You’re doing this to get your hands on the company?” Gabriel gaped. 

“Of course,” Lucifer said. “I’m the one who does the most work—more than father, these days. Castiel is too busy ripping the wings off of sparrows with Ketch, or whatever they do together. And you,” his glare was inhuman as he looked at Gabriel. “You’re the loose end.” Lucifer laughed shrilly and it set Gabe’s teeth on edge. “You have no worth to me, Gabriel. You’re only an obstacle, keeping me from being the sole heir to Grace Avionics.”

In his panicked state, Gabriel blurted, “What about Cas?”

“I’ll get to him soon enough,” Lucifer said. “But first,” he pulled a long, thin knife out of his jacket and twirled it menacingly in front of Gabriel’s horrified face. “First I’m going to cut you up, little brother. I can’t wait to see the look on dad’s face when he finds out that he’s trapped behind bars and his two youngest angels are  _ dead _ .”

“Fuck, Lucifer!” Gabe shouted as his brother neared. The dam burst forth and all of the writhing emotions inside of him let loose. “Seriously, Walker?” He yelled over Lucifer’s shoulder to the disgraced detective as he felt his brother's hands on his shirt. “What happened to ‘Protect and Serve?’ You were a good cop—are you seriously going to stand there and watch him fucking kill me?” He was babbling, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to get through to the only other person in the room who could possibly help him. 

All his hopes were dashed with four words. “Better you than me,” and then Walker turned away. 

“Holy fuck,” Gabriel panted frantically as Lucifer ripped open his borrowed shirt, sending the buttons flying across the concrete floor. “Luci, you don’t want to do this. Look at me! Lucifer, don’t—“ he broke off. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gabriel vaguely hoped that Bobby wouldn’t be pissed about his shirt being ruined. It was a safer thought than focusing on the cold bite of metal pressing into his bare chest. 

Was this his fucking life? Handcuffed to a pole, at his father’s business, about to be carved into by his own brother? Obviously he’d managed to piss someone off in a previous life, because this was fucking insane. 

Gabriel could feel the knife gliding lightly over his skin, not breaking it—not yet. Lucifer seemed fascinated at the sight and despite how sick it made him feel to see that look on his brother’s face, Gabriel refused to close his eyes or look away. 

“What sort of message should we send to father? Do you have a preference, Gabriel?” 

How could he have missed the derangement in Lucifer’s eyes for all these years. Something inside of him snapped and Gabriel narrowed his gaze and did his best to sneer. “You want me to pick what you’re going to carve into my fucking chest? You might be my brother, but Luci—you’re a great big bag of dicks.”

“What did you say to me?”

“You fucking heard me,” Gabriel was actually shocked that his voice didn’t falter. 

“I think I know what to do,” Lucifer said, gripping one of Gabe’s shoulders painfully tight, while using his other hand to point the knife. “It would be just  _ delightful  _ for everyone—especially father—to see what you are, carved into your skin.  _ Fallen Angel _ . Seems fitting, doesn’t it, baby brother?” Gabriel’s eyes went wide and he braced himself, pushing his back against the metal pole restraining him. “Fallen Angel,” Lucifer said again, leaning in to whisper in Gabriel’s ear. “Just. Like. Me.”

Gabriel sucked in air and waited for the burn of the blade slicing into him, but it never came.

*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost at the big finale!!


	14. Free to Be You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back Where We Began...Almost...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale! Have fun and hold on to your butts!

Fucking Sam was setting him on edge. 

Dean had always gone above and beyond for his brother—that was his job. Their father had always instilled in Dean that as the elder, he had to look out for Sammy. When Sam fell off his bike, Dean was the one holding his brother’s hand through the stitches. Nightmares? Dean knew a million stories to tell so that Sam could be distracted enough to fall back asleep. By the time their parents had gotten into the car that was rigged to explode and would take their lives, Dean already knew that he would do anything he could to keep Sam safe and happy. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t have confidence in his brother—not at all. He was fully aware that Sam was a grown ass man who could handle himself just fine. It was more that if Dean could shoulder the burden instead, then he would. Anything that he could do to spare his brother, would be done. 

But he couldn’t save Sammy from this. 

The painful anxiety was rolling off of Sam in waves, smothering the whole car with tension. Dean understood—he did—and he just wished that he could take it all away. If only there was some way to guarantee that this rescue mission would come out in their favor. The worst of it all, was that Dean couldn’t even come up with anything decent to say that could ease his brother’s mind. 

Glancing in the rear view mirror, Dean locked eyes with Castiel, who was unmoving and stoic. A different kind of tension simmered between them, underneath all of the crashing emotions of their current situation. It made Dean’s entire world tilt on its axis. How had the son of his enemy become so fucking important to him in forty-eight hours? Suddenly, Sam’s frantic worry over Gabriel seemed natural to Dean. He couldn’t imagine how he would react if Cas had been the one nabbed. Oh, shit. He was in deep.

The security gates of Grace Avionics loomed before them, and Dean knew he had to push all those messy, inconvenient  _ feelings _ down. They had work to do. 

The armed guards stopped them, walking up to Baby; one of them leaning in toward the open window. “Private property,” he said. “No admittance.”

“Cute,” Dean fished out his badge and snapped it open for the rent-a-cop to see. Next to him, Sam was staring straight ahead, vibrating with tension. He watched as the other guard sauntered behind them to Charlie’s car that had clanged to a halt as well. 

“I’m sorry, agent,” the guard said after checking out Dean’s identification. “We haven’t been told of any changes to policy, I’ll have to put a call in to one of the Novaks and make sure that you are allowed access.”

“I’m a federal fucking agent,” Dean said incredulously. “You  _ have  _ to let us in.”

“Not without a warrant, I don’t,” the guard smirked. 

“Fucking hell,” Dean smacked the steering wheel with both hands in frustration. They didn’t have time for this.

Behind him, a throat cleared, and they all turned to look at Castiel. “Cole,” he addressed the man. “It’s  _ my  _ word that we are  _ all _ allowed access to  _ my family’s _ property. Delaying me and my friends has just cost you your job,” Cas paused while the guard, Cole, sputtered. “Open the gate before it costs you your life.”

The man went a sickly shade of white as he choked, “Yes sir, Mr. Novak.”

The gate swung open in moments and both Baby and Charlie’s little VW rolled through, leaving the dumbstruck guards behind. “Damn, Cas,” Dean said with a nervous chuckle. “You don’t mess around with the threats, do you?”

“It wasn’t a threat,” Castiel said absently. “It was a simple fact. He knew that.”

“You would have actually killed him?” Dean tried to keep his voice level. 

“Of course,” Cas’ tone was flat. “Anyone standing in the way of getting my brother back safely is an obstacle that must be removed. By any means necessary. I would think that you would understand that, Dean.”

He did.

Anything threatening Sam would be dealt with swiftly and brutally if need be. And right now, this whole situation was getting to Sam through Gabriel. Dean knew that he had to do everything he could to make sure that Sammy got his obnoxious little boyfriend back. After all, Gabe was important to Sam, and he was Cas’ brother too. And not that Dean would admit it out loud just yet, but maybe the pipsqueak had grown on him somewhat. Anyone who could make his brother  _ that _ happy couldn’t be all bad. 

They drove around Grace property, keeping their eyes peeled as they neared the airfield. Soon after they’d entered the property, Castiel had called someone named Frank and was asking him for surveillance support. Dean couldn’t hear much, but whoever Frank was, he sounded grumpy as all hell.

“I understand, Frank,” Cas was saying. “And I assure you that once this is over, I will introduce you to a young lady that might have government access.” There was a pause. “Yes, she seems the type to enjoy hacking the CIA for fun. I’m sure that the two of you can use Grace’s servers for all of the Robin Hood activities that you wish.” Castiel nodded at the reply. “Thank you, Frank. Your loyalty is appreciated.”

When Castiel hung up, Dean asked, “Did you just pimp Charlie out to some weirdo? You know she’s into chicks, right?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Head toward the back of the airfield. Frank said that his alarms were tripped on one of the old hangers out there.” Once Dean started driving in that direction, Castiel said, “I did not  _ pimp _ her to anyone. Not that way. I’m not sure that Frank would know what to do with a woman anyway. He’s interested in her clearance and her love of conspiracy theories. He said he needed an extra set of talented hands to get the dish on the Kennedy Assasination and the moon landing—whatever that means. Besides, she idolizes Frank. She’ll be happy to meet with him.”

“Charlie won’t hack into the government—she works for them,” Dean chuckled.

For the first time since they got in the car, Sam spoke up. “Charlie hacked into NORAD for fun three years ago because she wanted to prove that War Games was possible.”

“Wait, she actually  _ did  _ that?” Dean asked. “I thought she was joking.”

“She wasn’t,” Sam said, staring out the window. “She also regularly hides behind our firewalls to anonymously transfer money from politicians and hate groups to animal shelters and domestic violence charities.”

Dean mulled that over for a moment before saying, “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

“There,” Cas broke in, leaning over the seat between the Winchesters and pointing at a large, gray building with a late model Crown Vic parked in front.

“How the fuck did Walker get passed those asshole guards?” Dean wondered. 

“Detective Walker has been on my family’s payroll for a very long time,” Cas explained. “He has access to Grace whenever he needs, I’m sure Cole and his partner didn’t even blink an eye at him.”

Pulling around to an adjacent building, Dean parked his car out of sight, with Charlie pulling in next to him. All of them—including Juliet, who remained plastered to Sam’s side—got out of the vehicles and stood together in a loose circle. 

“I loaned out your time and services in order to get us a narrowed down location on the property,” Castiel said to Charlie as she opened up her laptop on Baby’s hood.

“You pimped me?”

“Why does everyone keep using that word?” Cas sighed. “I did not. I simply told Frank that he could have your assistance with some of his extracurricular hacking activities.”

“I’m gonna meet Frank Devereaux?  _ The  _ Frank Devereaux?” Charlie squeaked.

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“Rock on,” Charlie grinned as she turned back to her computer.

Henrickson was busy checking his piece as he said, “I would feel more comfortable if Miss Bradbury would stay here and offer technical support and a way to call for backup.”

“No way,” Charlie protested. “I’m an agent too—I got this.”

“Charlie,” Dean sighed. “You  _ are  _ an agent, but you know you’re tech support. I mean, have you ever handled a gun outside of training and your monthly required range time?”

“No,” she said. 

“Then you’re staying,” Dean said. “We can’t get in there and have you freeze up. I’m sorry.”

“But—“

“Please, Charlie,” Sam said quietly. “We need you to stay safe. You’re family.”

“Ugh, fine,” she conceded. “But I’m going to pout about it.”

“That’s fine,” Dean winked at her. 

“If no one minds,” Officer Fitzgerald piped up. “I would be willing to stay behind with Miss Charlie so that if someone does come this way and means her harm that I can take care of it.” He turned and smiled at the hacker. “That way you’re not alone.”

Dean looked at her, silently making sure that she was cool with the suggestion before he said, “Great, thanks Garth.”

“No problemo,” Garth smiled. 

“Okay then,” Dean said. “Charlie and Garth are here, Cas and I can take the south entrance and Sam—you and Henrickson can go north.”

The detective and Cas nodded solemnly, but Sam didn’t react in any way. “Sammy?”

“I’m fine, Dean.” No he wasn’t—that was damn obvious—but Dean knew better than to call him out. 

“Right,” Dean said with resignation. “Take Juliet with you.”

Sam absently patted the huge dog on her head and smiled grimly. “I was planning to.”

Fuck, Dean hated the way that Sam looked. This cold, detached person wasn’t his brother. He realized that Sam was doing everything that he could to hold himself together, and Dean could only feel a sense of pride at that. Sam was damn strong—stronger than Dean gave him credit for, that was certain. Just imagining that their situations were reversed and Dean wasn’t sure that he’d be as controlled as Sam. If Castiel was the one who was missing and in danger, Dean would have been on a vigilante rampage by now. His brother was a stone-cold badass.

The four of them and Juliet prepared to head out and enter the hanger where they were sure they’d find Gabriel. Dean waited for Sam, Henrickson and the dog to split off before he put a hand on Castiel’s arm and held him back.

“What, Dean?”

He couldn’t stop himself—he moved without thought or care. Dean gripped the lapels of Cas’ ridiculous trench coat and pulled him in, pressing their lips together. For a moment, Cas remained frozen under his touch before he surged into the kiss, claiming Dean’s mouth as though  _ he  _ had been the one to initiate. Dean’s tongue slid against Cas’ and both meant grunted out in pleasure as they kissed their fill. It was horrible timing, but Dean knew that he needed this— _ they _ needed this. 

When they finally parted, panting, with lust blown pupils, Castiel tilted his head and asked, “What was that for?”

“So that you remember that no matter what, you’ve got something good to come back to,” Dean tried to put all of his messy feelings and desires behind his gaze. “Just be careful in there, Cas. I need you.”

Without waiting for a response, Dean turned and moved forward, ready to breach the building and do what he did best—ride to the rescue and kick some ass.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When a large banging sound caused Lucifer to pause just before his blade bit into skin, Gabriel sighed at the momentary reprieve. His brother swore and turned to Gordon, who looked just as confused. “Were you followed?” The disgraced detective asked. 

“Not possible,” Lucifer said. He straightened and removed the knife from Gabe’s pectoral. “Excuse us for a moment, little bro—it seems that we might have uninvited guests.” 

Some of the tension in his muscles released when Lucifer stepped away and began a hushed conversation with Walker. The two men had their heads together, their words agitated. Gabriel watched them closely trying to figure out their next move. 

He shifted his feet, scuffing the soles of his boots against the floor, and that’s when he felt it. The warm, uncomfortable press of squared metal digging into his ankle. For a moment, Gabriel stopped breathing. How could he have forgotten about his own handcuff key, shoved safely into his shoe. Holy shit! He might actually be able to get out of this and spare the cavalry—if they were even coming—from having to put themselves in danger.

Focusing his mind, Gabriel silently prayed to  _ anyone  _ that was listening to get Luci and Gordon out of the way so that he could implement his shitty escape plan.  _ ‘Come on, guys—move the fuck along!’ _

The seconds dragged and just as Gabriel thought he might be totally screwed, Lucifer turned and pointed the knife at him, saying, “Don’t go anywhere.” And then he and Gordon were gone. 

Gabriel let out a slightly hysterical laugh and sagged against the pole before he pulled himself together. He didn’t have much time—every second would count. Using his thighs as support, Gabriel slid down the pole toward the floor into a low crouch. His muscles were already burning from the effort and Gabe cursed his inflexibility. He was compact and muscular, but definitely not very bendy. For the first time, he wished that he’d gotten more into yoga in the past. 

Slowly letting out a deep breath, Gabriel decided to just go for it. On the exhale, he pushed his shoulders as far forward as he could, while sliding his left foot backward along the ground. It fucking hurt. Humans were not meant to bend this way!

It took patience, grit, and a bit of maneuvering for him to be able to slip his fingers into the cuff of his boot. It was a tight fit, and Gabe could feel his fingers beginning to cramp, but he persisted.  _ There. _ The stupid fucking key was  _ right there _ —he could feel it. Twisting himself further, Gabriel pushed his fingers deeper into his boot and felt them close around the tiny universal key. 

Once he slid his cuffed hands back out, he immediately allowed himself second to relax into the pain of his awkward position. After a few deep breaths, he began to move the key around in his right hand, mindful of his clammy palms. If he dropped it, then he was done for. 

Sticking his tongue out from between his lips in concentration, Gabriel focused on getting the key into the slotted lock of the cuffs. The whole thing felt insurmountable when he couldn't see anything and was working with one hand—and tied behind his back too! Just as he was about to swear in frustration, he felt the key slide into place. It was a perfect fit, and Gabriel couldn’t help the happy giggle that slipped from him. 

The key turned in his hand and the clasp of the handcuffs released from his wrists. He wanted to scream in relief and joy, but he forced himself to muffle any sounds. The last thing that he needed was either Luci or Walker coming back to find him. Now that his arms weren’t twisted behind him, Gabriel collapsed forward onto his knees, the burning in his leg muscles subsiding. Rubbing his wrists, he grimaced at the thick red welts that had almost broken skin. Fucking Gordon—of course he made the damn cuffs too tight. Gabriel was going to treat himself to his stash of Vicodin if he ever got out of this mess. It was a damn emergency after all, and his whole body ached.

Realizing that he had to get going, Gabriel hauled himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as the blood rushed to his head. His head was still pounding from the drugs that Walker had assaulted him with, and the panic hadn’t helped. Gabriel looked around the hanger and decided that his best bet would be to avoid the exit that Lucifer and Gordon had left through. As quietly as possible, he trotted across the open space and slipped through a door on the opposite wall. 

He found himself in a dim hallway, where the air smelled stale; a testament to how little this building saw use. A few doors along the walls indicated restrooms and an office. When he turned the other way he saw his salvation in a small, glowing ‘Exit’ sign hanging from the ceiling. 

Taking off at a run, Gabe reached the door and wrenched it open, flooding the dank space with painfully bright sunlight. He threw his hand up over his eyes to block out the offending rays, and squinted at his surroundings. No one seemed to be nearby. 

Gabriel stepped outside, and blinked, trying to adjust his vision. A scraping sound to his left had him jumping and he saw a stack of metal barrels leaning against the building. From around the farthest one, a familiar face appeared, and despite the situation, Gabe felt nothing but relief. 

“Juliet,” he said, careful to keep his voice down. 

The massive Shepard wagged her tail and snuck over to him. He bent over to give her head a scratch and received a sloppy kiss on his hand, narrowly missing his raw wrists. “Good girl,” Gabe said. “Is Samshine with you? Can you take me to him?”

Juliet snuffled and immediately set off along the edge of the building. Gabriel immediately followed her, trying to remain inconspicuous as possible. “I swear, girl,” Gabriel whispered. “If you get me safely to my Samalicious, I’ll buy you a whole turkey. Or cow. Or a lifetime supply of bones. Anything you want.”

She didn’t seem to pay him any mind as she rounded the corner and stopped short, backing up into him before he could join her. Juliet stopped and stood stock still, her ears back, hackles raised. The low rumble in her throat was almost inaudible, but Gabriel seemed to feel it in his bones. He looked to where she was pointing with her body, and his blood froze. 

It looked like the set of a freaking Michael Bay movie! About fifty feet away, Detective Henrickson and his former partner were pointing guns at one another in the center of the runway. Castiel and Dean were both aiming for Lucifer, but neither of them had a clear shot. They were unfortunately blocked by Sam whose back was pressed against Lucifer’s chest, in a headlock. Luci’s arm was wound tightly around Sam’s neck and the top of that damn knife was pressing against Sam’s throat. He could hear Sam shouting to Dean that he had to shoot “No matter what!”

Gabriel saw red. 

Everything seemed to fade away until all that he could hear was white noise roaring in his ears. He was totally focused on his brother and Sam, neither of which had noticed him just yet. Watching his twisted sibling threaten the life of his lover—of  _ his  _ Sam—had Gabriel making a choice. If he really thought about it, there never had been a choice. It was always going to end this way. 

“Juliet,” Gabriel hissed as the dog’s ears twitched at her name. With no remorse, Gabriel pointed straight at his brother. __

“ _ Thoir ionnsaigh! _ ” 

*~*~*~*~*~*

One moment, Sam was being held in place by a total psycho with a knife at his jugular, and the next he was sprawled out on the concrete with scraped palms. Blinking in shock as he rolled away from where Lucifer had fallen, Sam scrambled to his feet and stared at the spectacle. 

The snarls and snaps coming from Juliet were more terrifyingly demonic than canine, and Sam gaped at the sight. The ripping of claws and screaming wails of Lucifer made Juliet’s earlier takedown of Arthur Ketch seem like a playful romp. Crowley’s girl was going to protect and defend her people with everything she had—it was sobering. 

“Juliet,  _ beò-ghlac _ !”

Sam spun at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, cold and hard. The grateful feeling that his lover seemed to be all right was offset by the terrifyingly cruel look in Gabriel’s amber eyes. He watched Gabriel walk toward him, his shirt ripped open, and his bare chest exposed. Sam felt a stirring below the belt and looked away from the sight of the man he loved looking for all intents and purposes like a romantic action hero. “Gabe!”

His lover spared him only a brief glance before he turned his attention to the ground of the airstrip. Lucifer was lying on his back, cuts and scrapes littering his face and arms. His arms were splayed out at his side and one of them seemed to be dislocated. The knife he’d been holding on Sam was at least ten feet away, sunlight glinting off the discarded blade. The crazed Novak brother was inhumanly still, hardly even breathing—not that Sam blamed him. If he had an Anatolian Shepherd’s jaw clamped around his neck, he’d try not to move as well. 

Juliet had a soft mouth, none of her teeth were breaking skin, but it would be nothing for her to rip out Lucifer’s throat if given the proper command. Vaguely, Sam wondered if Crowley had imparted that information to Gabriel. 

Behind him, he heard Henrickson say, “It’s over, Walker—put the gun down. Please, man.” Gordon must have complied because he could hear Henrickson moving closer and the metallic click of handcuffs. 

Sam moved next to Gabriel and placed his hand on his lover’s shoulder, startling him. He was pleased when Gabe finally pulled his attention away from his downed brother and looked up at Sam, eyes glinting with unspoken emotion. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

A laugh burst forth from his mouth and Sam reflexively grabbed Gabe, pulling him into his arms. He held on to the shorter man tightly for a few charged moments before chucking a finger under Gabriel’s chin and leaning down for a harsh kiss. “I was so fucking worried about you.”

“Hell, kiddo,” Gabe whispered against Sam’s lips. “I was pretty worried about me too.”

They broke apart as Lucifer begged through clenched teeth, “Get this damn mutt off of me!”

“Juliet,” Gabriel said sternly. 

In response, she held her position on Lucifer’s neck, and rumbled menacingly, causing the arrogant man to whimper. “Okay, Cujo, that's enough,” Dean said, as he moved toward them. 

They watched as Dean holstered his weapon, and used the correct phrasing to call Juliet off. Lucifer’s entire body shuddered when he was finally released. Hovering closely next to Dean, Castiel kept his gun trained on his oldest brother, his face expressionless. 

Juliet happily trotted over to Gabriel for neck scritches, while Dean hauled Lucifer to his feet and cuffed his hands in front of him. It was against protocol, but Lucifer’s dislocated shoulder prevented another method; and between the pain and Cas’ excellent marksmanship—he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sam was just about to lean in for another kiss when the silence of the air was broken by the shrill wail of sirens. Running in their direction was Charlie and Garth, who were being followed by several local police cruisers and two ambulance rigs. “Are you guys okay?” Charlie shouted as she neared them.

“We’re good, She-Ra,” Dean quipped, smiling at her. “Did you call the armed forces or something?”

“Nah,” she grinned. “I just told Crowley to send anyone he could spare. He was the one who decided to pull out all the stops.”

“How are things on his end?” Sam asked, as a few police officers came over and took a cuffed Lucifer to one of the ambulances for triage evaluation.

The beaming grin he received was pure Charlie. She looked ready to vibrate out of her skin as she said, “Crowley just took He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named into custody! Dumbledore’s Army wins again and Hogwarts is safe!”

She and Dean did a complicated handshake while Sam and Gabriel looked on smiling. Next to them, Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I don’t understand that reference. As usual.”

“That’s okay, Cas,” Dean said. “We’ll get you there.”

“Basically, Crowley arrested Chuck Novak, who is now officially behind bars with his most trusted lieutenant, Arthur Ketch. Now that Lucifer and Walker have been taken care of, and Gabriel is safe—that means we won,” Charlie explained. “Oh,” she racked on quickly. “I almost forgot—I got a transmission from one, Frank Devereaux, who informed me that the moment your father was booked, all control of Grace Avionics and it’s holdings have been transferred to a few new accounts on the Isle of Mann, Grand Cayman and Switzerland.”

Castiel and Gabriel exchanged a look of slight confusion. “No,” Cas said to his brother. “I didn’t ask Frank to do that.”

Snorting with laughter, Gabriel doubled over and then pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I told you that nutty weirdo had a soft spot for us!”

“Indeed,” Cas agreed, though he sounded rather mystified. 

“I think this calls for some celebrating,” Gabe clapped his hands together, which exposed the extent of the damage to his wrists. 

“Sorry,” Sam said. “But you’re going to celebrate with those nice paramedics looking you over first.”

Gabriel whined dramatically, but eventually agreed—as long as Sam stayed with him, and he got kisses if anything hurt. Sam was more than happy to oblige.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Once he was given the all-clear from the rather flirtatious EMT, Pamela, Gabriel hopped out of the ambulance, eager to get away from the chaos. He bowed his back, stretching deeply to work out the kinks along his spine. As he cracked one eye open, he chuckled at Sam who was blatantly ogling his chest. 

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

“Huh?” Sam looked dazed as he tore his eyes away from Gabriel and took a few steps closer, crowding him with his height.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked suspiciously, one eyebrow raised.

“If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight anytime soon, you’re insane,” Sam moved another step toward him. “I almost lost you—you’re stuck with me.”

“Knock it off,” Gabe huffed teasingly, taking a few steps away from Sam. 

“What?”

“You’re looming.” Sam looked at him quizzically and Gabriel sighed again. He flapped his hand between the two of them with agitation. “The height difference! You look like you’re about to kidnap me.”

Frowning, Sam pointed out, “Well...I kind of  _ did _ .”

“It was an accident.”

“Still a felony.”

“Shut up, Samborghini.”

Gabriel found himself staring dopily up at his lover, who was still invading his personal bubble. Not that Gabriel really minded—he’d gladly share anything and everything with Sam.

When Sam reached out and slipped their hands together, Gabriel felt complete. A shiver ran through his entire body, but one of anticipation. This kid might actually kill him one day, but oh  _ fuck _ , would it be worth it. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said.

He allowed himself to be tugged along, toward the parked cars where Dean and Castiel had insisted on waiting for them. They rounded the corner smiling snappily at one another until they caught sight of their brothers. 

Dean and Castiel were standing in front of the Impala’s open trunk, their arms wrapped around each other, mouths glued together like a couple of teenagers. Gabriel’s jaw dropped and he blurted, “Cassie—you’re not a virgin anymore!”

The pair jumped apart as though electrocuted, and couldn’t make eye contact. Dean was running a hand through his hair and muttering about ‘cockblocks,’ while Cas flushed crimson and said, “You know very well that I had sex with Meg.”

_ Eeeew! _ Slapping his hands over his ears, Gabriel interrupted his brother saying, “Stop! Stop talking!” 

Admittedly, it was pretty damn hilarious when Dean smacked Cas on the arm and agreed. “Yeah, man,” Dean’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to hear about you banging some chick.”

“She was a very nice young lady,” Cas said. 

“She was a borderline ‘Stage-Five Clinger’ when you finally dumped her,” Gabe piped up. 

“I definitely don’t want to hear about you banging a stalker chick either,” Dean said. 

Castiel glared at him, which made Gabe snort. “She wasn’t a stalker. She was a lovely girl.”

Behind Cas’ back, Gabe made eye contact with Dean and circled his finger around his ear, while mouthing ‘Crazy!’ This time, Sam smacked  _ him  _ on the arm, but Gabe could feel the love and affection behind it.

They moved to join their brothers, and when Sam leaned back to sit on the edge of Baby’s open trunk, Gabriel took the opportunity to snuggle himself between Sam’s long legs. His lover’s arms wrapped around his waist and Sam pressed a soft kiss to Gabriel’s neck. Shifting behind him, Sam rested his chin on Gabe’s shoulder and said, “I can’t believe we did it.”

“I know,” Dean said. “All these years—part of me didn’t think that it would ever happen. Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke. “We fucking did it.”

“Mom and Dad would be proud.”

“Yeah, they would,” Dean agreed. He turned to Cas. “We couldn’t have done this without you. Either of you,” Dean acknowledged Gabriel too, which was a bit of a surprise. “Thank you.”

“It was our pleasure,” Castiel replied, gazing intently at Dean. 

“It wasn’t my pleasure,” Gabe smirked. “ _ My  _ pleasure is going to happen later tonight when I get Sam naked and—“

“So,” Dean said loudly, cutting Gabriel off. It made him laugh that Dean was so uncomfortable. “What are you two going to do now that you’re independently wealthy?” Dean asked, changing the subject. 

“Shut down Grace Avionics, until we can figure out how to run it without all the illegal parts,” Castiel said instantly. 

“You’re such a nerdy little suck-up, Cassie,” Gabe teased. “I don’t think Dean will hold it against you that our fortune was amassed in a rather shady manner.”

“It was almost entirely unscrupulous, Gabriel,” Cas rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“Whatever. First thing that  _ I’m  _ gonna do is get a car with a great big trunk—kind of like this sweet ride, Dean-o,” Gabriel smirked, and patted the side of the Impala’s bumper that he was leaning on. “Looks like you could fit a body in this thing.” 

“It’s been done before,” Dean said teasingly.

“Why do you want a car with a big trunk?” Sam asked suspiciously. 

Twisting in Sam’s arms and grinning up at him, Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows lewdly. “So that you and I can reenact our ‘Meet Cute.’ Only with less clothes and more super hot sex.” 

“Don’t even think about defiling Baby, Sam,” Dean growled behind them. “I  _ will  _ kill you both.”

Sam was still laughing when Gabriel practically crawled into his lap and captured him in a deliciously sinful kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly—just as their bodies did. His fingers grasped Sam’s hair, his lips worshipping, as he tried to subtly grind on Sam’s lap.

“Dean, if you insist upon threatening my brother’s life, I will not be giving you a blowjob tonight.”

“Woah—I didn’t  _ mean  _ like,  _ actually  _ killing them, Cas,” Dean protested. Soon enough he was cut off, mid-word, and based on the ensuing sounds, he was getting his own kind of happy ending.

The sun sank into the sky behind them, effectively dropping the curtain on the events of the past few days. The two sets of brothers kissed their respective partners, basking in the fact that they had finally managed to get some closure; and that miraculously, they were all still alive. Their enemies were behind bars, they had found each other, and things were looking up.

Perched in Sam’s lap, Gabriel leaned back and shot his younger lover a lascivious look. “Hey kiddo,” he whispered. “Did I ever tell you how I fell in love with a car thief?”

“Let me refresh your memory, old man,” Sam grinned at Gabriel’s exaggerated gasp. “He wasn’t a thief, he was a badass Special Agent.”

“Who picked the most conspicuous car in the city to try and blend in,” Gabe smacked a kiss on Sam’s lips. 

“Because there were extenuating circumstances.”

“And he could tell that the car was not only  _ bitchin,’ _ but had an insanely attractive owner.”

“An owner who is insane—”

“—Ly rich.”

“Who wants to buy a car solely for the trunk space because he has a weird kink—“

“—About the time a fake car thief swept him off his feet,” Gabe finished. “I guess you have heard the story.”

“It’s the best story I ever heard,” Sam’s voice became serious; laced with thick emotion. 

Gabriel’s eyes lit up and shot a quick glance over his shoulder to their brothers. Dean and Cas were lost to the world—they couldn’t see further than each other. Turning back to Sam with a wicked grin, “Wanna make the story a little better?”

“How?”

“I think we’re gonna have to test drive some trunks to make sure we pick the best one,” Gabe waggled his brows. “Why not start now?”

Sam’s eyes never left Gabriel’s, and his words were confident. “I love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.” With that, Gabriel surged forward, his busted shirt falling off of his shoulder as he knocked Sam backward into the trunk of the Impala. Pushing his body down on top of Sam’s, Gabriel boxed him in, pinning Sam down. As their hips ground on one another, and their legs twisted, their lips met in frantic kisses.

Gabriel turned and latched his mouth onto Sam’s neck, sucking deeply. He could feel Sam extracting one of his long, limber legs. Above them, he heard Sam’s shoe hook under the lip of the trunk door. Lavishing attention on Sam’s jaw as he used his foot to close the trunk on top of them, Gabriel had just enough time to see Dean’s horrified face as the trunk slammed shut.

In the total blackness of the interior, Gabriel claimed Sam Winchester for his own. And not  _ just  _ his lips—all of him. It was perfect—better than anything Gabriel could have ever imagined. 

Outside, Dean banged his hands on the top of the trunk, shouting obscenities at them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

***THE END***

***FADE TO BLACK***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCENE!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, I really loved writing this and I hope that you enjoyed reading it. Once again, huge, giant, moose-sized thanks to anyrei and their AMAZING art!! Go check out their Tumblr: anyreiart The master list of the art for this fic, as well as a ton of their other work is posted there and you will be awed. Fantastic stuff! 
> 
> So again, thank you and I hope you liked this little fic. Please check out the other entries in the SPN Media Big Bang 2020 because we have a hell of a line up this year!!
> 
> 🍭I am on Tumblr as crowley-loves-usuk if anyone feels the urge to follow or message me. I love talking to readers! 🍭


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